Between Shadows VI: The Art of War
by Scb047
Summary: Xander’s spin-off series, set a few years in the future in New York. Xander’s fight against Mason’s minion is about to escalate into all out warfare as tragedy strikes his friends. Can a blossoming relationship survive this trial?
1. Know Your Enemy

Between Shadows VI: The Art of War

Between Shadows

Episode VI: The Art of War

Title: Between Shadows (Episode VI: The Art of War) part 1/4

Author: Scb047 (scb047@hotmail.com)

Summary: Xander's spin-off series, set a few years in the future in New York. Xander's fight against Mason's minion is about to escalate into all out warfare as tragedy strikes his friends. Can a blossoming relationship survive this trial?

Distribution: Distribute away, no permission required.

Feedback: Please do.

Disclaimer: If you want to sue me, first you gotta catch me. Long live the joys of copyright infringements!!! Avenge Napster!!! We remember… 

Special thanks to Calen Hawk for the Beta Reading.

Chapter 1: Know your Enemy

In the darkness of a shady motel room, he groaned softly, his back arching ever so slightly from the pain. His face, covered in sweat, shifted from one side to the other searching the strings of early afternoon light for something he couldn't define. The thumping of his heartbeat raced around his body, as did the sensation of bitter pleasure he was so addicted to, a sweet pain he couldn't help but embrace. He closed his eyes a moment, covering them with his right hand, trying to stabilize the whirlwind of alcohol and cocaine pumping through his system, the cracked ceiling spinning above him. He sniffed intermittently, trying to chase the ghost of the powder that had left his face numb; his nose itself was only the distant memory of something that might have once belonged to him.

Xander groaned once more, as the sharp pain returned. He savored it for a moment, and then smiled, letting a small chuckle escape his lips.

"Faith, where did you learn to do that?" he asked, a hint of awe in his breathless voice.

The raven-haired slayer came crawling up Xander's body, biting her way alongside the skin of his bare chest. So nimble was her approach that the squeaky bed stayed utterly silent for the first time in the last few hours. She pounced to Xander's lips, taking good care amidst their passionate kiss to bite down hard on his lower lip, aggravating a small cut there and dipping her tongue in his blood.

"Ouch!" exclaimed Xander, an amused grin on his face as he slipped an arm around Faith's naked form and gently brushed the hair out of her face with the other.

"Quit the faking, Boy Toy. You love it like poison, and you know it," she answered, tracing a finger slowly on his face. She could hardly believe how handsome she found him to be, in spite of the scar on his cheek and the white strand of hair on his left temple. Actually, she could never decide whether or not those attributes aided the attraction. She had to admit it though, the bad boy look of it totally worked for her. He was Mr. I'm too cool to shave everyday, James Dean with at least another 30-40 pounds of muscle; he was the only guy she'd met with a pulse who was tough enough to stand up to her in a fight; and that, more than anything else, turned her on. She kissed him once more, this time letting him wrap his teeth around her lower lip.

"You didn't answer my question, Firecracker," persisted Xander teasingly, searching for a dirty story to spark up a jealous passion in him, but Faith knew well enough to deny him any such pleasure; she frowned upon relinquishing any control she possessed on Xander's libido. No, she alone would decide when Captain Happy would rise to attention for another salute, plus she knew too well that the key to seduction lies in leaving one's subject always wanting for more.

"Vegas," she said mysteriously, as he spun her to the side and started assailing her neck with kisses and bites. "I'll tell you more about it next time. I need to be in Mason's office by seven. Hey! Did I say you could stop? Keep goin', I got five minutes."

Months had passed between the first embrace they had shared in his room that October night. His arm had healed, other wounds had formed and gone too, snow had fallen and had melted away, a warm February closing in on them. Their timeouts away from their little war had gotten more frequent, their passion existing only in these secret instant they spend in rented rooms. In between they fought each other as fiercely has they ever had. Faith still worked for Mason, whose agenda remained unclear to both the lovers, but Xander and his little band of Scoobies did all they could to stop them. Failure was frequent, but the few victories they managed always had a devastating effect on Mason's overall plan; they only hoped it would slow him down long enough for them to figure out what he was up to. 

The war existed outside the room, beyond the wooden door sealing their little made up reality. Inside, they never spoke of their differences, other than in the same way one would talk about their day at work to their spouse. Outside, Xander tried to steer clear of fighting Faith head on as much as he could. Whenever they would cross path he would take an evasive approach knowing too well he was no match for the Slayer; Skoll had not spoken to him since it had helped him defeat Tara. But punches were still thrown, stands still taken, and he knew Faith was holding back sometime, saving him a broken arm or a shattered skull as he Jackie Chan-ed his way out of a terribly deadly situation. None of them knew how long they could keep this up; none of them really wanted to find out.

"Why don't you?" asked Xander almost enigmatically as he watched from the bed as Faith slipped on her black sport bra. She never lost a beat even though she felt like swallowing the lump that formed inside her throat. She had expected the question; she had expected Xander would be the one to ask it, yet still it surprised her just how out of the blue he had approached the subject. Five seconds ago they had been talking about the latest episode of "Child of Destiny" where Roger, Xander's alter ego, was seduced by Stiletto, and evil psychotic leather wearing tramp whose ass Cordelia's character later kicked so bad, Xander had to talk Faith out of showing up at the TV star's LA penthouse with a chainsaw. 

"I was wonderin' how long it'll take to cheapen the sex with romance, Boy Toy."

"I thought you liked cheap sex, Faith," asked Xander with a grin, "C'mon, Firecracker, what's one more switch, you're getting so good at it."

"I'm bad, Xander," she answered softly looking away from him, "That's who I am… that's who you could be too, though. C'mon, what do you say, no more of that walking the line bullshit. Let the inner evil rip, come out and play: come work for Mason. It'll be wicked fun, I promise."

"I can't."

"Why not? Why do I have to change my life to fit yours, cuz I'm the girl is that it? We both know who's the bitch in this relationship. I rule your ass, face it."

"That's debatable… if that's all right with you, mam?" answered Xander, swallowing hard and pretending to be scared for the Slayer's enjoyment. 

"C'mon, you can't tell me you really care about that good and evil bullshit, about doing what's right and wrong Xand, I know you better."

"Faith…Mason shot me and sorry to go third grade on you but that kind of makes my dislike of working for him a little personal. Plus it just… it just feels… I don't know what it feels like but it's nowhere close to feeling right. Kind of barfy, I guess, in a bad way. I guess I'm afraid of what's going to happen when you're boss' master plan comes into action; I kind of like my world free from total destruction or demon rule."

"But you'd be on the ruling side… with me."

"I don't want my friends to get hurt, Faith. And they wouldn't go along with this."

"So… what you think of the movie?" asked Marcus, his hands buried deep into his pockets, hidden away from the world as they fiddled nervously with his change or anything else they could find. He finally looked up from the ground to Katrina who dutifully kept her attention on the road. Garrett had finally agreed to lend her his Jeep, and she wasn't going to mess this up by getting into an accident or getting a ticket.

"Sorry Marcus, did you say something?" 

"Huh, yeah, you know, the movie…"

"Oh, right the movie. Yeah! It was great, I mean how can you not love Ben Affleck; he is such a hottie. But I bet you were too busy looking at Cordelia Chase to notice that. Not that I blame you, I mean she is gorgeous. I don't swing that way, but if I did, I would totally go for her. And how they fall in love, it's so beautiful, just like Romeo and Juliet, and when you find out that she has a terminal disease, that's just too good. I mean, if I had been watching this alone, I would have totally cried like a little girl. But of course, I had to look tough since you were around. What did you think?"

"Well… I didn't like it so much, I mean Cordelia Chase was fine, and I do mean fine, but it ain't my kind of flick."

"I don't understand then, why did you invite me to see it?" she said as she aptly veered the vehicle around a right turn.

"Well… you know," said Marcus, the words he really wanted to say dying bitterly in his mouth, "to thank you, you know, for saving my butt from that Quezcar Demon the other day… Boy! Did that thing have sharp teeth, huh?"

"Yeah about that, you got to watch out more in the future Marcus, just because Xander's insane doesn't mean you have to follow his example. God knows I'm trying to make him slow down, think before he jumps out of a three stories window onto the top of a moving truck, or runs headfirst through a brick wall. I don't need you to start playing Rambo either, I've got enough death whishes on my hands. Thanks anyways, I appreciate it."

"No problem, I knew you'd like the movie,"answered Marcus his eyes back to scanning the dashboard. 

"I mean it, I can really use a friend right about now."

"Yeah," said Marcus disappointed, but the hint of sadness in his voice went unnoticed by Katrina. "That's what I'm here for, big bag of friendship… but I was thinkin'…"

"I mean think about it, could the guy be more selfish…"

"Ben Affleck?"

"No dumbass. Xander!" answered Katrina, the blonde's tone of voice became annoyed, though the source of the irritation was clearly not present in the car with them at the moment. "I mean, who risks their lives like that… and for what no good reason! Does he care how much it would affect us if he did get himself killed?"

"Kat… he does saves a lot of people's lives, including our own," answered Marcus hesitantly. The thought of seizing this opportunity to plummet Xander's stock never crossed the good hearted young man's mind, instead he shied away from what Katrina could potentially do to him for siding with his buddy.

"Excuses, excuses. We save people too, don't we? He's not the only one out there battling the forces of darkness. Does he have to be so gun-ho about it? Did I tell you he didn't even register for school yet? We start class tomorrow, Marcus! He is so selfish it's maddening; I don't even know why I bother. He's always so wrapped up in his little obsession: Faith this, Mason that. Got to save the world, Suicidal style! Never mind the smart way of doing things, let's just rush in head first! He's playing their game, he doesn't even seriously try to stop her, you saw how he always avoid fighting her…"

"Cuz she can whoop his ass is more like it," interrupted Marcus, a brief pause in Katrina's rambling. Marcus rolled his eyes as she started again, the tires of the Jeep screeching as she swerved through Brooklyn's busy streets. A few cars honked in the distance, a musical testament to Katrina's diminishing attention.

"That's Bull. It's nothing a pistol couldn't solve and you know it. Sure, if he can't kill her I understand, but shoot her in the knee or something. Sometimes I think he likes it this way. He's so afraid of change he'd rather risk all our lives playing this stupid game over and over again. In the meantime he's throwing his life away with the drinking and the constant violence; we don't even know where he spends his time anymore, he comes in, he comes out… I tell you Marcus, whatever he says, I don't believe he can really bring himself to hurt her, I think…" said Katrina as she stopped at a busy corner, nestled in the middle of relatively low buildings, their walls yellowed with dust. She instinctively looked out to her left as she waited impatiently for the light to change. Her hands tapped the steering wheel nervously.

"God!" Marcus said, loosing his cool. "Xander this, Xander that, do you ever talk about anything else. You wanna talk about obsession, why don't you start with yours, Babygirl. Can't you ever go five minutes without saying his name or talking about him?"

"Xander!" yelped Katrina almost in horror.

"There you go again, aren't you even a bit…"

"Shut up, Marcus! Look over there!" 

Marcus leaned over to stare out the window at what Katrina was pointing to and came back with the same shocked expression that had assailed his friend's face moments ago. Outside this shady motel to their left, Marcus could see Xander dressed in nothing but a towel, kissing Faith as she straddled up onto her motorcycle. 

"Well," said Marcus, still shocked. "At least now we know he's not a eunuch."

Sitting on the front porch of their little house in the Bronx, Garrett and Gabe watched in amusement as Sanaz paced back and forward, looking as nervous as they'd ever seen her. She was all dressed up, the make-up she had delicately applied made her look as beautiful as a painting; a flawless version of the already attractive woman she was. The black backless dress hugged her tanned body tightly, and with the sequin sown in intricate pattern, it looked as if she had veiled herself with the night itself. 

"Relax, sis, he'll be here," said Gabe in a tone that shied away from being reassuring. He was less than thrilled about his half-sister's first date with professor Carl Henry, the object of her relentless pursuit for months. Gabe knew better than to say anything though, and after all, Carl as they'd finally came to call him, was not as old and stuffy as he sometime appeared.

"Stressing much?" asked Katrina and Marcus as they came up from the street. "Don't worry, Carl is right behind us, we ran into him on our way back and picked him up."

"Yeah, the Dog's checking himself in the side mirror of Garrett's ride, just makin' sure he's lookin' good enough for our fine lady over here," added Marcus with a smile and a wink. 

"Thanks, doofus," said Sanaz to Marcus appreciatively, before turning her attention toward his blond haired companion. "What's wrong Katrina, you looked wigged out about something?"

Katrina's eyes shot up from the ground and reluctantly she answered, biting her lower lip in the process. "Just some bad news me and Marcus need to share with you guys… but nothing that can't wait until after your big date."

"I don't know about that girlfriend. I don't know if I want that kind of imagination teaser dangling above my head while I'm trying to concentrate on getting some tonight."

"Hey!" yelped Gabe from the back, "A little less sluty on the details, please."

"Shut up Gabe! C'mon Katrina what is it?"

"What's what?" asked a familiar voice as its owner opened the front yard's wrought iron gates. The group turned their attention toward Xander as he stepped aside and into the wide sphere of influence of a nearby streetlight. His face was still lined by occasional shadows, as he held the gate open for Carl, who had been coming up from the opposite side of the street. The two men exchanged a brief greeting before moving up to join the group.

"Xander!" said Katrina in surprise, though the intent was really to change the conversation or to at the very least delay it until she could come up with an adequate lie.

"Yes that would be I—Xander—thank you for reminding me," he said with a wide grin that should, alone, have been enough to betray his morning activity thought Marcus. With the benefit of hindsight, he now cursed himself for not making that connection before, having seen this expression on his friend's face many times the last few months. 

"Oh my god, you look lovely, if I may say so, Sanaz," said Carl staring in awe at the brunette. He himself was dressed in an elegant dark blue suit with a red-striped tie. The two stared at each other, completely forgetting they were surrounded by their friends.

"Hello, Carl," she said simply, but her smile spoke of much more. 

"Huh, right," said Xander, fighting hard to work through the strange awkwardness that was building up. "Katrina, what's that you guys were talking about?"

"Oh… nothing. Well you know, just that I smell love in the air, and all," she said hiding the anger she felt boiling inside.

"You couldn't be more right," added Garrett, quickly earning a hateful look from Gabe: the slap on the chest came only moments after. 

"Shut up, squealer!" 

"What? What's up? You met a honey or something," asked Xander intrigued. In the background, Sanaz and Carl continued their flirtation, exchanging a few comments on their evening plan. He relinquished watching Gabe squirm in his seat, finally it seemed New York was getting over Annie's death.

"Listen he's blowing everything out of proportion, California. It's just some girl we met during registration… we just talked and decided to take some classes together, end of story. He's jealous."

"Well I spotted the red head, I went to talk to her, I warmed her up and you swooped in and got all friendly, friendly. Damn right I'm pissed."

"Cool, I'm glad for you buddy," said Xander.

"Yeah, and she's new in town too, so I'm gonna show her around, and…"

"That's alright Gabe, I get the picture."

"Oh that reminds me," said Katrina with a hint of her evil intentions in her expression, "What about your registration, Xander? What courses did you pick again?" 

"And that reminds me," answered Xander slyly, showing almost no nervousness at her questioning, "that we should ask the lovely couple where they'll be dining tonight."

"Oh, Carl is taking me to Dorsia, it's this…"

The sound of the machine gun came thumping in like a nightmare. Empty cases of 7.62 mm rounds were hitting the ground like a lead rain, nameless screams ringing out through the horror. Xander had his back to the street, but somehow he knew before the first shot had been fired. Maybe it was something in the sound of the engine accelerating, or the way everything suddenly slowed down, or how he could have sworn to have seen Buffy draped in a widow's black dress, strutting across the porch, or maybe it was just that tingling sensation in the back of his neck.

"Down!" he managed to yell as he tackled both Katrina and Marcus, the first round grazing his shoulder painfully. The drumming of the bullets shattering the windows and the wood of the front door, exploding the empty flowerpots, died as the black unmarked car sped away. And Xander was already up on his feet about to give pursuit, adrenaline pumping like the sweetest drug he could hope, mixing in with the vague traces of alcohol and cocaine still in his system. Then he saw her, only for the briefest moment, and yet again; just like a disjointed reality, a skip editing. She popped in and phased out once more, Buffy in her dark veil, smiling sadly at him. 

"Xander!" someone wailed behind him, and reality kicked back in like the bitch it was. 

Emergency rooms, like graveyards, possessed this transcendent quality, this aura that made them all appeared the same. The smell of formaldehyde, the busy chatter of nurses going about their business with cold professionalism, that proverbial one guy sitting by the candy dispenser who's pissed off because he has a headache and he has to wait for the doctor, never mind the later is busy saving the life of some guy who got stabbed in the throat. For the briefest of moments, Xander thought himself back in Sunnydale Memorial, waiting for the lowdown on Buffy or Willow's injuries. 

He had sat in the waiting room quietly for hours before a nurse had noticed the wound on his shoulder and had had a doctor stitch him up. He had never said a thing because he had simply forgotten about it, his mind on his friends that were now battling for their lives. Garrett had been hit in the leg and the arm, his wounds had been painful but he would certainly live. The worry came from Gabe and Carl. The first much like Garrett had not had time to jump down from his seat, but he had been caught by several more rounds, one of which had collapsed one of his lungs. Carl had managed to push down Sanaz out of harms way before being mowed down; his body had danced a long dreadful gig before collapsing. It was a sight he doubted Sanaz would recover from anytime soon.

He watched them on the edge of the room, a few rows of injured people away, as they paced about nervously. They couldn't contain their fears like he could, and as most people do in this situation, felt an incredible need to contribute somehow. As if standing up to form a sort of vigil would help their comrades. Xander knew better, and left their fate in the hands of the doctors, concentrating his effort on figuring out how this all happened and what came next.

It was his fault, of course. He felt appropriately guilty for bringing this violence into their lives. In a way, he had always known this would happen, and had done little to stop it. He knew that exposure to the world of demons and Slayers was like painting a bulls-eye on your back, that sooner or later his friends would either die or have their lives destroyed, like his had been a dozen time over. He should have left, or maybe he should have joined up with Faith. He knew Mason was behind the attack, he knew he had been the target, the first shot that had grazed his shoulder would surely have killed him if he hadn't reacted so fast. He had been the intended victim, you always aim for the main target first. It had to have been DeMontagne that French Special Forces guy he had faced off with a few times before. 

"It had to have been him," he muttered to himself, without any conviction. Paranoid thoughts were flooding his mind a mile a minute.

For the first time in years he had felt he belonged somewhere and he had allowed that to control him, and now people he cared about were paying the price for it. Was it Faith that had done this, had she thought wiping out his friends would take care of his reluctance to join her? Was the first bullet only meant to make him believe he had been the target? No, she could never go so low, could she? Maybe if he had taken her out of commission, maybe if he had taken off the kiddies' gloves. 

"God dammit! Where's the fucking doctor," yelled out the man with no visible injury in the corner, the man with the headache. "I've been waiting an hour, I want to see a fucking Doctor for Christ sake!" Xander ignored him, returning to his brooding thoughts. What son of a bitch he was, here his friends were in pain, were dying for all he knew, and he could still taste her, he could still smell her scent on his fingers.

"God will you shut up!" yelled back Sanaz. She was a wreck, the pressure of possibly losing both her half-brother and the object of her affection, was too much for her to bear.

"Listen, bitch! My fuckin' head is…"

"Hey, watch it, pal," interrupted Xander with aggression, "you only get so much for free."

"Oh great," exclaimed Sanaz sarcastically waiving her hand at him as tears kept pouring, "that's a great idea Xander. Why don't you kill him, that's what you're good at, isn't it?" 

The words hurt him, but not so deeply as one might have expected. It was strangely reassuring to know someone else agreed it was his fault; his brooding and self-hatred were suddenly justified. And Headache-dude had finally shut up. 

"Miss. Shiraz," said the Doctor has he stepped into the crowded entrance to the waiting room. Xander instantly popped out of his seat and quickly joined up with the group.

"Yes, I mean, that's me."

"I'm afraid I have some bad news. You might want to sit down, all of you," said the bespectacled man in his deep voice filled with genuine sympathy. Nobody wanted to heed the advice though, preferring to stand as if before a firing squad, a last show of strength before collapsing in despair.

"You brother is still in critical condition, and we might need to operate some more in the morning, but we removed most of the bullets, and repaired most of the damaged. It's too soon to tell, but I have a good feeling he might pull through."

"Okay… that's not exactly bad news, Doc. What about Carl?" asked Sanaz. She melted into sobs, Marcus barely catching her in time as she watched the expression change on the Doctor.

"I'm sorry, Miss. Shiraz. You're friend died on the operating table about twenty minutes ago. There was little we could do, the damage was simply too extensive. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to your grief."

The doctor disappeared back down the hallway, leaving the group to their tragedy. Xander took a step forward to attempt to console Sanaz, but she pushed him back violently.

"Don't touch me!" she yelled and then almost instantly calmed down, looking away from him as if it was too painful to. "Listen Xander, I know it's not really your fault, but it's real hard for me to stay objective here. If you'll please just stay the hell away from me for a little while…please."

He opened his mouth to respond, but chose wisely not to. There was nothing he could say that would have made this better. Words were meaningless. He made his way around the group and headed out with a decisive pace. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the rising action of some Heavy Metal music was playing. Somewhere between two steps he had made the decision, the little game he had been playing with Mason was over. It was time to take it to the next level.

Midway to the exit, as Xander stomped through the hallway with steam coming out of his ears, shoving his way passed anybody who happened to stumble in front of him, he heard Katrina calling out to him like the nagging voice of some conscience he had left long ago.

"Xander! Where the hell are you going?"

He turned around to face, giving her a chance to catch up. "I'm going home, Katrina," he said dryly.

"You're lying to me, you're going after them."

"No I'm not, I am going home, where I'm gonna grab a few things, then I'm going after them."

"Listen, you were just shot, why don't you get some sleep first."

"I'm not going to sleep till have quenched my thirst for vengeance with their blood, Katrina. Yeah, that's right, you heard me Katrina, I'm gonna find whoever did this and I'm going to murder them, regardless of whether they're humans or not, and regardless if they're armed or see me coming. The only thing I care about his how quick I can spit on their graves."

"Xander you're not thinking rationally. If you don't step back a moment you're gonna get yourself killed."

"I don't give a…"

"Okay, fine you want to die! Good for you! What about us, we don't need to loose somebody else tonight. And what if you're so enraged you end up hurting some innocent people in the process, haven't you thought about that?"

"Katrina," he drawled, "I will kill anybody who gets in the way. Haven't you figured it out yet? I'm not the nice guy you want me to be. I don't care about anything. I'm a killer, that's who I am. I destroy everything I touch. I know it, Sanaz knows it, and …" He stopped not wanting to give away what his speech was really about, but it was too late.

"What? Faith knows it? Is that what this is about? You're pissed at yourself because there's a good chance the woman you've been boning behind our backs, for god knows how long, just might have stabbed you in yours?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," he responded, refusing to acknowledge surprise at the fact that she knew about his extracurricular activities. For all he knew she could have been bluffing.

"Don't try to take me for a ride, Loverboy. I saw you with our supposed enemy, sucking face at a motel in Brooklyn, just today. So what's going on, it's not enough you're playing Mason's game, you're gonna play hers too? Let her convince you that you're really evil just like her, is that what you want to do, Xander?"

"What I want to do, is something I should have done months ago, and take her down. That should make you and your little conscience happy, shouldn't it?"

"Xander," she replied shaking her head, and claming down, "I hate the bitch, don't get me wrong, but I wouldn't want you to go out and kill her just cuz you're pissed and looking to blame someone. Xander, despite what I've said, we don't know that she was behind this. If I know one thing, is how much she wants to keep you alive, otherwise she could have just slit your throat while you slept, right? Xander don't fuck up your life over this, I don't know much about your past, but I do know you probably wear your worst scars on the inside and I don't want you to add to that by killing a woman you're in love wi…"

"Whoa!" said Xander raising his hands defensively, showing as much fear as she'd ever seen him display. The tone of his voice had changed, the muscles of his face had relaxed; somehow she had gotten through to him. "Who said anything about love— I mean, I like Faith and all but…"

"Fine, typical male, afraid of commitment. Go ahead, delude yourself, I bet she does the same. But I have to warn you, it won't last, sooner or later you're going to have to face truth."

"Hey! I'm Xander Lavelle Harris, never underestimate my ability to delude myself. It's my superpower, you know?" he joked with a smile, a trace of the old Xander, shining through the hard empty shell of a man he had become. They laughed nervously for a moment, almost feeling guilty about releasing some tension in the wake of one of their friend's death.

"Xander, please, I know there's a darkness about you, but don't let it consume you, not totally. I'd miss Xander Harris if you did."

"God dammit!" interrupted Headache-dude as he argued fervently with the nurse. "I want to see a doctor now!" Both Xander and Katrina turned toward the nurses' desk that was just a few feet to the right. The man was banging violently with his fists on the desk, the nurse starting to retreat back in fear.

"Sir, I understand you're in pain, but you'll simply have to wait your turn. Our doctors are all busy and you do not have a priority trauma. You're just gonna have to wait your turn."

"I'm in pain, here! What do I need to see a doctor, I need to be dying is that it. I need to have money falling out of my pocket?"

"Hey!" yelled out Xander as he walked up to the gentleman, delivering a right punch to his kidneys midstride, followed by a right hook to the face, his left hand firmly gripping the man's shirt. Finally, he completed the quick attack by slamming the gentleman's head against the desk, just hard enough to crack the his skull. He pulled him back up by the hair, blood now trickling down his face. "Now you got you're head cracked, now you qualify for priority trauma," added Xander before letting the man's near unconscious body fall on the floor.

"I'm calling security…" said the nurse, "… in five minutes." Xander nodded to her in appreciation, and walked back to Katrina.

"That wasn't the darkness consuming me, more like the inner Boy scout performing a public service. C'mon, I'm happy, the nurse is happy, he's happy— I mean he's getting what he wanted, they're going to let him see a doctor right away now. Everybody's a winner."Katrina rolled her eyes before taking on an expression of deep disapproval. Finally, he cracked.

"Tell you what," he answered after thinking a moment, "I'll compromise with you. Tomorrow, I'll go register for classes, if they'll still have me, of course. As for you, and the others, you just got to promise to stay out of this until I've dealt with Mason and Faith. I know you guys will probably want to help, but you don't have the stomach for where I'm about to take this. Also, you're going to have to realize for your own benefit, Kat, that I am not a hero, I'm not even a nice guy. I'm just a pissed off alcoholic who's good at not much more than being the last man standing.And tomorrow after I'm done with my classes, I'm gonna go after Mason and a great many people are going to die. Human people. And you do whatever you want, turn a blind eye, pack my bags for me, forget about it, write a song, tell a shrink, I don't care, do whatever it takes. Because you're going to have to live with it, because I've got no other options now, but one."

"And what's that?"

"War."


	2. Know Yourself

Between Shadows VI: The Art of War

"You dumb son of a bitch!"

The massive oak doors shattered against the walls, yet neither Mason, who sat calmly behind his desk, his stoic imaged framed by a semi-circular wall of windows, nor DeMontagne, who sat his back to Faith's fury, flinched even for an instant. Mason's injured guards trailed and limped behind the Slayer as she stomped through the office, past the marble columns and the Greek statues. 

"Faith, I understand we might…"

Mason's apologetic speech was interrupted as Faith seized the priceless antique chair next to DeMontagne and shattered it on the desk, provoking the mercenary to jolt back slightly, reaching for his pistol as he did. Mason who was as always cool and collected quickly waved him to desist; an order the Frenchmen reluctantly accepted. With another gesture, the guards disappeared back, closing what remained of the doors behind them.

"Which one of you two retards am I gonna beat into oblivion?" yelled Faith as she paced angrily.

"Faith, if you'll calm down, I think I might be able to offer you an answer to that. Of course, I'd offer you to sit down, but that's no longer an option."

"I don't want to sit down, I want to know whose bright idea it was to try to driveby Xander?"

"It was my idea," answered DeMontagne, showing no fear at what she might do once she heard his confession. The mercenary knew little fear, and always felt a great disdain at being forced to work with a woman, even one like Faith. He thought of himself as the thing to be feared, and despised any mention of caution when it came to dealing with Xander.

"DeMontagne acted without my knowledge in this," added Mason. Faith quickly reached for a knife and advanced toward the Frenchman. 

"Fab. I'll just skin him alive then."

"Wait!" yelled Mason, as both Slayer and mercenary were about to go at it, punctuating his order with the cocking of his pistol. "I think this is hardly the time to reduce our ranks, Faith. I assure you, Mr. DeMontagne will receive the appropriate pay cut for his insubordination."

"Paycut! This idiot kills one of Xander's friends and you're just giving him a paycut!"

"Yes, I bet you are really broken up about his friends…" exclaimed DeMontagne, "… it is not at all your lover's life you are worried about. Well, don't worry _salope_, he somehow moved out of my shot. _Le conard_ is euh…fane… I mean fine."

"And that is the only reason you are alive, DeMontagne," responded Mason, "I clearly expressed to you the change in our plans. I want Xander alive, I want him working for us and until now, I believed Faith's rekindled liaison with Mr. Harris was doing a nice job of nudging him in our direction."

"How did you know about that?" spat Faith, angry that Mason obviously had her followed. She suddenly felt used again, just like she had felt so many times growing up.

"Faith you are very valuable to me and I always protect my investment. Part of that requires that I be aware of your whereabouts at all times. How else could I help you if you ran into trouble?" He was as smooth as a snake, and shared his counterpart cold heartedness as well.

"This is all bullshit," interrupted DeMontagne, his thick accent massacring every word he uttered. "You wanted Xander taken care of, that's what I tried to do. At least I got some of his friends, now he might actually take us seriously for a change."

"Well what's done is done. Now we have to choose how to deal with this. Faith what are your thoughts on this? How extensively will this damage our chances of him joining us?"

Faith slowly burst into a soundless nervous laughter. She covered her face a moment, and then glared at DeMontagne; her voice took on a somberness that it had seldom taken before.

"How extensive? We're dead, that's how extensive."

"Exaggerations! See, this is what I keep telling you abo…"

"You shot his friends! You killed one of them and the other one's still a maybe. You have no fucking idea what you just unleashed here! Attack him, slaughter innocent people, release the four fucking horsemen on the world, and Xander still Xander. Sweet, predictable, white knight wannabe Xander. But you fucked with his friends. Now he's coming after us and it's no more Mr. Nice Guy. You might as well have shot a dummy nuke at the Kremlin."

"How bad can it be, Faith? We've been able to handle Mr. Harris in the past, and with very little casualties I might add."

"Well Mason, you ever seen a pissed of Bear defending her cubs? How they're twice as dangerous, how they'll go to any length? Picture the same scenario except the only thing Yogi cares about is eating you alive, no matter what happens to it. When you fuck with his friends, Xander gets that kind of focus and ferocity. I mean, when he was sixteen, he was a total coward, couldn't stand up for himself to the high school bully."

"Now, that I believe," interrupted DeMontagne with a chuckle. Faith glared at him and continued almost seamlessly.

"But the second some vampire or demon attacked one of his friends, he was always the first one to charge into battle. No matter what. Picture that, Mason, picture that attitude when it's fueled by revenge. I don't even want to think of what horrible plan he's working on right now."

The Fear was terrible. It was a deep anguish that would not subside. He whished he could pinch himself and make it all disappear. However, the bad dream would not go away, no matter how many pricks he gave himself. He took a deep breath and a sigh followed. He shook his head one time and raised his chin like a man trying to look proud for his execution, and finally, Xander read the course description one more time. As he did, Xander sat almost trembling in anger in the fifth row of the small amphitheatre, staring to his right at Katrina, who smiled sheepishly.

"Why is the world against me?" he asked, his jaw shifting in the process. 

"C'mon, Xander, it's not that bad."

"Communication Seminar: Sharing Together?" he said, the words dripping with venom as he flashed the sheet of paper, the title in bold letters for emphasis. 

"Well you know, we live in an age of school shootings as a form of expression. Paranoia is rampant. After the whole loosing it in front of Professor Barnum, and more or less admitting to maybe having been the hand behind the most famous assassination in this decade, you sort of qualified for the high risk category of the student body," answered Katrina as the last of the students filed into the classroom.

"Yeah, but they can't seriously be convinced that I was telling the truth…"

"Who cares if you were serious, just a hint of impropriety is enough these days. So you have to take an anger management/support group. Big deal, most people fight to get the free seats in this class. No homework, almost guaranteed full credit. Anyways, you should be glad you got admitted back at all, I don't know how you managed to get Barnum to vouch for you."

"Everybody has their weaknesses," he answered enigmatically, a grin on his lips. 

"Please tell me you didn't use violence."

"Don't worry. I wouldn't want to say I bribed him… but that's sort of exactly what I did.."

"With money?"

"No… I just… I helped him plan his summer vacation."

"Vacation? Vacation where?"

"Well… you know… he's a big conspiracy theorist. What else could a conspiracy theorist want better than your everyday military top clearance to use for restricted access to Los Alamos Bombing range. Better known as Area 51."

"You are so kidding me."

"No, made a phone call to a bud of mine, got him the pass. It's not like it makes that much difference, nobody will ever believe his story."

"Well that's it; you are so planning my next vacation. So aliens are real? UFO's, the Roswell crash, everything? C'mon you can tell me."

"Sorry," he answered grinning one last time, "but telling would kind of go against the mystery man façade that I'm desperately trying to keep up."

Xander's body tensed up as the teacher walked into the class, kicking the doorstop on her way to the foldable table that had been placed on the stage as a makeshift desk. The sound of the metal door closing behind her reminded Xander of that of prison gates, and with that image cemented in his mind, his anxiety resumed. 

Doctor Page had the kind of gentle intensity of a priest. A simple stare from her large bespectacled eyes and one couldn't help but confess one's sins. Her round forms and warm smile only added to the image of a thirtyish granny. Everyone felt comfortable in her presence, everyone except Xander who hated her for all the same reasons.

"Alright, why don't we begin to get to know each other by discussing one of life's most important emotion: pain. I want to know about painful experiences you lived through, I want you to come down here and discuss it one by one in front of everyone. I think it's a great way to actually get to know one another. Who wants to go first, now c'mon don't be shy."

"I loved her so much… it's just… like I said, we were always fighting… what I don't understand was why it was always about the dumbest things," whimpered a young man almost on the verge of tears. The whole class looked down sympathetically at Bill as he went over his recent breakup with longtime girlfriend Monica. Xander paid little attention though, concentrating more on the anger he felt boiling inside his belly over last night's events. Katrina had seemed to retreat in a stage of denial, trying to bury her pain in the routine of a school day, but Xander's guilt would have none of that for him. He replayed the events over and over again, cursing his name along with the blurred slideshow of memories flashing before his eyes. "If onlys" were rolling in like thunder.

"Like that damned picture of her aunt. She hated it even more than I did, but she refused to move it. 'Put it in the closet, just bring it out when she comes to visit. She lives in Arizona, she's not fucking likely to show up unannounced for a surprised visit'… oh sorry, I said the F-word."

"That's alright William, you can say 'fucking' in here. This is a place to share, not censor."

"Well, anyway, she just wouldn't have it. And we were always fighting over the remote control and what we were going to watch. That kind of stuff. Half the time I didn't even care all that much but I just got so enflamed on the spot… I just don't get it."

"Well, if you permit me to make an analysis of sort, though you have to understand it's still somewhat premature to do so. I think it's possible that the trouble in your relationship was that you and Monica were caught in a power struggle that was never resolved. See, one of the most important part of any relationship is in it's beginning when the roles of dominant and subservient mates are clearly defined. Sometime that struggle take many subtle form, like who calls whom, who hangs up first; sometime it can even take the form of an object that both parties may fight over its possession, like an apartment or even something like a gift or a toy. You two seemed to have never resolved that issue, you were both still fighting to be the dominant one, and perhaps that is the very reason your relationship was so passionate. Friction equals passion. Those romance were the two lovers are either as much in love of each other, or both possess strong personalities, are always the most powerful and intense relationship imaginable. Unfortunately, they are highly volatile, and very few people believe it's actually possible to find the required balance for the couple to survive."

"Maybe that's it… I dunno… I just feel like god hates me or something. Like everybody all around me has the right to be happy, but I can't, I'm not allowed. I mean, why can't I find somebody you know…. I feel like I'm repulsive, like I'm some evil foul thing, that nobody can touch… I mean, I hurt everybody around me, my parents, my friends. Maybe the women I fall in love just see something in me that makes them runaway."

Xander sighed and rolled his eyed, unknowingly attracting the attention of the entire room as he did the first. He looked up form his desk to witness angry eyes staring at him from all around.

"Maybe there's something you'd like to say Mr…Harris, is it?" asked Doctor Page, almost squinting at him.

"No, no… it's quite alright…you don't want to know what I think, the part of my brain that's supposed to be sensitive usually gets pushed around by the one that thrives on red meat. I better keep my thoughts to me good old wacky self…proceed with the brooding."

"Mr.Harris this is a class about sharing, if you have an opinion, even an negative one, I urge you to put it forward."

"Well…" hesitated Xander for an instant before folding, his self-control being mostly diverted toward containing his ever growing murderous rage. "Alright. Well… Bill… Billy... you need to loosen up. I think you just need to understand that the moment you start to love something is the moment it starts to die on you. Maybe it's her feelings for you, maybe it's yours, maybe it's literally one of you two, but something's dying, something's numbered. Sorry to tell you but there's never a happy ever after, so you should just quit whining and get rollin' with the dealing. Life sucks. Shit happens."

"Hey, what do you know, man. I had something special, something unique. Dealing? You think I can just brush this away? Me and her had the kind of love most people only dream about."

"What do I know?" responded Xander flaring up. "I know pain, buddy. I've tasted pain the like you never heard of. So don't sit there and think your special, that you got something on me. Because I've been enga… " Xander suddenly stopped, looking down at his table for a moment as he was overwhelmed with emotion. He couldn't face it, not today, not right now, he couldn't bring himself to voice this old wound especially with Katrina right next to him. Xander finally resumed more calmly, retracting his earlier line of thought. "I've got a friend of mine in the emergency room right now, fighting for his life and another cooling down in the morgue because they caught bullets that were meant for me yesterday. You think you're a monster? I'm sitting here with my friend Katrina there, and she's pretending the best she can that it didn't happen, because she has to, because that's the normal human thing to do. But I know it happened. And the worst part of is not the survivor guilt or the fact that it's my fault, the worst part is that it really doesn't feel all that bad. Sure I'm angry, but anger is the wrong emotion. I should feel sad, I should feel despair, instead all I got is this thirst for blood. I've buried so many friends that I think I've lost my ability to grieve, and that's scary… I've finally grown so cold that I'm wondering if I can still call myself human… but you know what? I got my pain and you got yours, maybe I really shouldn't judge. Maybe in the end, pain is really what defines us, makes us unique… like a snowflake." Xander's voice had grown faint and filled with uncharacteristic emotion. Tears were nowhere to be seen, but their presence could almost be felt by Katrina who herself tried hard to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. 

"Xander…" said Katrina as she reached out for his shoulder. The whole room had grown quiet, and Bill had a somber look of shame on his face. Down in the front row, a young woman had turned around with a sad smile on her lips. Life was full of coincidences, as if dramatic irony was the PTB's sick way of making jokes. She brushed back a strand of her long red head as she pondered how she should make her presence known, but her intentions were cut short.

"You know what, I'm getting out of here," said Xander as he rose to his feet. "I can't deal with this talking stuff. I'm getting drunk and then I'm gonna do something actually constructive and feed my appetite for destruction."

He stared through the wired glass at the respirator machine pumping air into Gabe's lungs. The myriad of tubes and wires that pierced his friends skin created a dreadful tableau, a white bandaged mummy who was one with the machine. Xander's reflection crept in on the glass and he couldn't help but gaze back into his glassy stare. Was he really becoming like Faith? Or had his baseness grown far past hers already? Why was it that hate was the only thing he could feel anymore? None of that mattered, because blood called out for blood, and personal feelings were therefore irrelevant. Xander's identity was irrelevant, because soon he would let himself become the instrument of vengeance, the avatar of death itself.

"I met him, you know?" said a familiar voice from behind him. He spun to meet a face he could never forget. Though time had changed her features ever so slightly and the hair was all wrong, there was no mistaking it. The gorgeous young woman in front of him was Dawn Summers. Shock and a vague sensation of excitation coursed through Xander, but the happiness drained from his face as he realized what was going on. He spun back around leaving a confused Dawn behind; his face turning back to stone.

"You got the hair wrong Skoll. And if you're here to tell me to be careful, I could have use that yesterday."

"Sk-who? Did somebody hit you on the head again, Xander?"

"Dawn? Dawnster?"

Dawn's shook her head in the manner of someone pointing out the obvious and was suddenly jolted back as Xander near tackled her with a gigantic hug. She let out a small, relieved laugh as he finally set her down. 

"Good. I was starting to think you'd forgotten me. And who's Sk-who?"

"Long story. What happened to your hair?"

"It's call dye, stupid. Get with the century and it's multiple innovations in the world of cosmetics. Plus, it's not my hair you seem to be staring at."

"That's it young lady," exploded a bright red Xander, his gaze retreating to the floor. "I thought I told you to stop with the inappropriate innuendos."

"Hey, you can't tell me what to do anymore, you're not the guardian of me. I'm a grown woman."

"No, you're not!"

"Yes, I am!"

"No, you're not!"

"Yes, I am!"

A short stare contest ensued before they both burst into laughter. 

"Seems we're back where we left off," said Dawn with a smile.

"Yeah, well almost," answered Xander looking back at the respirator. Suddenly, a twinge of fear crawled into Xander's mind. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to be here to exact some form of terrible revenge upon me by any chance? Because this is not a good time, I'm kinda booked for the week. Next week would be good though."

"Vengeance? What's your major malfunction, Xan? Well, here," she said as she placed a quick kiss on his cheek. "Suffer the terrible redness of the lipstick mark."

"Alright make fun of me, but the "let's kill Xander's for his past misdeeds" hobby has been going around lately."

"Oh, you and Faith are back together again?" she asked mischievously. Xander simply glared at her. Suddenly her joke seemed less funny. "Oh. Sorry…"

"It's ok. How did you find me anyways? Giles?"

"No, pure randomness. I haven't talk to Giles in months and I just transferred to NYU. I wanted to come up here to work on a singing career, ran into you in Dr.Page's class."

"You followed me here?" asked Xander incredulously as he knew very well he had taken great care to see if he was being tailed.

"Katrina," answered Dawn, relieving Xander of any remaining fear, "and don't worry I was appropriately cryptic. You would have been proud."

"Well, the world's a big box of chocolaty surprise, huh? Sorry I can't be more cheery at our reunion, I just have a lot on my mind."

"Care to share?"

"No, but maybe we can do the catching up thing later. If I'm still alive."

"Still alive? What's going Xander, I know Faith was mad at you for bailing on her but it can't be that bad."

"Things escalate."

"Yeah, but violence is like you guys' equivalent of foreplay! C'mon why don't you tell me what's going on? Maybe I can talk to her."

"Sorry Dawn, it's way past talking. I'll see you later." Xander tried to move past her but the young woman would not have it, defying him chin high by stepping in his way and gripping tightly onto his jacket sleeve.

"Wait. No! You're not leaving. Now I know you're upset because you're friend's hurt but I'm not gonna let you rush off to kill Faith. Not before you at least justify yourself to me."

"Well I guess I see how you might feel."

Tucked away in the booth of a crummy New York coffee shop, Xander had just finished summing up the last two years of his life to a very attentive Dawn. He looked at her once more, with her long red hair and the same smile he remembered, and he felt proud to have had some hand in her rearing. In a way it was still painful, her very presence reminding him of Sunnydale and her sister, but he had decided months ago not to run from his past anymore and he wasn't about to start again now. He looked back down into his near empty coffee cup, sliding his thumb alongside the white Styrofoam. 

"Gabe is such a nice guy too, he doesn't deserve to be lying in that bed. Then again they never do, do they?"

"No they don't, and I know what you mean. I met him, you know."

"What?"

"Him and your friend Garrett, I met them at registration. They were both sweet."

"I see…" answered Xander as he took another sip of his coffee. He thought back on Garrett and Gabe's word before the incident and was suddenly filled with a familiar emotion. "I see I'm gonna need to murder Garrett and send Gabe right back in the hospital once he recovers."

"Stop it Xander. If I can survive Glory and being the Slayer sister, I can handle a couple of boys."

"Yeah well I recall a certain Zack and a certain Justin." 

"Don't make me bring up the She-Mantis lady… which of course I just did, but you should still consider yourself warned mister." Silence quickly set in as they both found their cups of coffee increasingly interesting. They'd been in this place for hours now, the sun had since set over the Big Apple, and outside entropy pulled another surprise. Xander couldn't believe Dawn was actually back in his life. One moment he had felt completely alone in this grim world of his, unable to relate to his friends who were just beginning to experience it, and suddenly there was Dawn. It felt reassuring, like coming home. Xander scanned the young woman up and down; she was no longer the little munchkin he'd left back in Sunnydale a few days after her eighteen birthday. She was a beautiful strong woman, whom he noticed, attracted the stares of most of the male gender. Suddenly, he felt like breaking the silence.

"The coffee's grown cold."

"Yeah," answered Dawn looking straight into his eyes. "This feels weird, I mean running into you, learning Faith has turned to the darkside… again, and that I might very well loose one of you before the end of the day. It's kind of a little much."

"I know, my life feels like a series of jump-cuts lately. It does give me some perspective on what you're sister went through though. Having the world revolve around you, contrary to Cordy's opinion, isn't what it's cracked up to be."

"I still can't believe there isn't a way around this."

"Dawn, I don't have a choice. I've let her push me around too long. If I hadn't waited, maybe Sanaz' boyfriend would still be alive, and maybe Gabe would be having coffee with you instead… which as much as I hate the idea of, I prefer to having him hooked up on life support."

"So what's the plan, and how can I help?"

"Well to quote your sister 'You can help by staying out of it.' I'm sorry but you came at a bad time to make an application for the job of sidekick. I'm flying this one solo. As for the plan, you ever read "Johnny Mnemonic' by William Gibson?"

"No, sorry, my Sci-fi nerdiness does not rival yours." 

"Hey! Lay off the Sci-Fi will you? Anyway, there's this great line in it 'If they think you're crude, go technical; if they think you're technical, go crude.' Well, I'm a very sneaky technical boy, and Faith knows that, so I'm going to do the one thing she wouldn't expect."

"Oh my god, you're just gonna walk right in there and start shooting."

"A plan worthy of the Buffster seal of approval, but don't worry, this is a three step plan."

"And what do you call step one, "Suicide at the Tower of Doom'?"

"No, Dawn," he answered with one of his trademark grin, "Step one is 'Baiting the trap.'"


	3. Show Contempt for Danger

Chapter 3: Show Contempt for Danger

The security guard sighed in relief as the clock turned to eight fifty-five, the unofficial end of the business day over at the Spade-Easton building. All the employees and executive had long vacated their offices, and the only people remaining, else than the janitors and the nightshift security, were the building's new owner and his people who occupied the top floors. 

He slowly walked around the security desk and then through the large black metal detectors. Inspired by some reason to be touched by beauty, he looked back a moment at the central marble fountain, it's central statue a weird depiction of Apollo, water jetting from all around him to form a strange liquid throne. His gaze then traveled over the large rows of columns supporting the overhead balcony. The new owner had sure fixed the place up over the last few months. Hell, now it even had a vaulted ceiling with a very accurate reproduction of Sistine chapel. It was funny though how quickly one grew so used to the beauty, that one hardly noticed it anymore.

He shook his head, trying to concentrate instead on locking all the doors so as to hasten his departure. He stretched out his arm to open the last one, letting out a few day-shifters who were lucky enough to kick off early.

"Hey Lenny!" yelled out someone from the inside, "Come check this out, Cordelia Chase is on ET."

"I'm coming right over," he responded, staring over his shoulder as he slowly closed the door on the cold air of the night. Suddenly, there was a jolt and he looked back to the hand shaped obstruction. Before he could open it, the stranger had pulled the door back enough for him to slip through. Black gloves, black leather coat, black sunglasses. There was definitively a color theme there. Adding to that the smell of alcohol on the man's breath and his overall attitude, and Lenny had everything he needed to conclude the stranger had bad news written all over him. 

"I'm sorry mister, but we're closed…" he tried as the stranger shouldered his way past him. Before Lenny could grab his shoulder, the stranger had casually drawn a silenced pistol with his left, and pumped two rounds into his chest. 

Xander never broke stride, never turned, and never even paused from looking straight ahead at the two guards at the desk still oblivious to what had just happened; the silencer had bought him the few seconds he needed. Quickly, he spotted two more to the right by the bathroom and one above to the left of the balcony. Everything was already slowed down, as if Lenny's lifeless body took infinity to surrender to gravity.

The ringing of the metal detector was a high pitch wail, the first beat to a song of metal about to unravel on those about to die. Xander unhooked the large heavy duffel bag that had been slung on his right shoulder. The guards were scrambling for their weapons like snails caught in glue. Thump. Thump. Went Xander's heart, his breathing muffling everything from existence. Finally he stopped in his track, though only for a beat, the duffel bag still hanging midway to the ground, Lenny now on his knees.

Xander took another long breath, his eyes twitching under the shades, and then he reached for his other pistol. Suddenly, it was as if someone had hit the fast forward button on his remote. Xander pounced, fast-drawing the holstered pistol as his body traveled horizontally toward the left side of the desk. He could feel the heat from the bullets flying by his face, as he repeatedly fired both pistols at the two guards by the desk. He caught only a glimpse of the blood blowing back from their multiple wounds before he hit the ground and rolled behind the safety of cover. His enemy kept firing wildly as he put his back firmly against the desk, a proud smile on his lips as he discarded the silencer, which had by now done his job. Surviving this far was something to celebrate; unfortunately he had little time to do so. He waited, using the opportunity to calm down his breathing, until the security guards finally relaxed and started using some fire discipline.

"Guys? Can't we talk about this?" he yelled out, breaking the silence that had settled. He leaned slightly to the right, taking a peak around the corner at the guard on the balcony. The poor green bastard was trembling, shifting his weight around, his arms stiff as boards. He was so shaken he hadn't yet taken cover, leaning over the railing, aiming dutifully at Xander's position. Twenty thirty meters, estimated Xander from the look of things.

"You bastard!" yelled out one of the guards by the bathroom, Xander took another peak over the desk and spotted them both hiding behind one of the columns. "You're the one who started shooting. You killed Lenny!"

"Did I do that?" asked Xander in his most innocent of voices. He quickly leaned around the corner and precisely unloaded a round between the balcony guard's eyes, and then returned to his position before the body flipped over the railing, blood still pouring out of the back of his head.

"You son of a bitch!" 

"You know I have to tell you," said Xander, interrupted only by the thud the guard's body made has it finally hit the ground, "you're friend over there really, really--- really doesn't look too well at all."

"I' m gonna kill him!" Xander listened carefully at the guard who seemed to be rushing toward his position, firing rounds as he went. Xander never even flinched as the bullets shook the entire desk; they ricocheted mere inches above his head. He pressed his forehead against the back of both his pistols, listening even more carefully through the mad battle cry of the guard rushing him. He closed his eyes, even as the tension rose through his own body, catching a last glimpse of the rounds punching through the glass wall that had separated this violence from the busy, oblivious streets of Manhattan. Through the vibrations and the thumping, through the chattering television, he heard a second set of footsteps coming up behind him, scrambling to catch up to the first.

"Mike! Mike! Get back here!" Reaching out with his feelings, he could sense their presence less then ten meters behind and to his left.

"I'm gonna kill him! I'm gonna kill him!" yelled back the other hysterically.

"Mike we need to take fucking cover, now!" He could almost see them, standing there, arguing. Mike still pumping rounds like punishing the desk changed anything, his buddy trying to grab onto his arm.

"Let go! Let me go, fuck! I'm gonna—" He could sense their energy, so close now. He could taste their fear as everyone heard the inevitable click, a hollow metal sound like the first nail piercing through the coffin.

When Xander popped up slightly over the counter, Mike was staring with dread at his empty pistol, his buddy still trying to yank him back to the column. That image was barely a snapshot; both of Xander's 9mm sang simultaneously, and the flesh of the men replied. The two rounds had found their respective mark, piercing through between each pair of eyes.

He returned to his cover a moment, listening carefully to make sure he hadn't missed some guard hiding away since the beginning of the firefight.

"Amateurs," he muttered, as he finally got up. His feet crushed pieces of broken glass and stoneware from cups of coffee and other items he didn't care to identify. Abruptly, he pulled back, barely managing to dodge out of the way of the bullet that flew up from behind the desk. One of the two desk guards had seemingly survived his multiple chest and head wounds. He laid on his back, clutching his bleeding throat, his other hand tremblingly pointing the pistol upward where Xander had been before the later pulled back and out of his angle of sight. 

"Note to self: cut back on the cockiness," said Xander to himself as he raised his arm high up, bending his wrist to give his weapon the proper angle. He fired a few shots until he heard the thud of the guards own hitting the floor. Still though, he heard groans and moans and he carefully peered over the counter. The dying guard held up an empty hand, trying to shield himself from Xander.

"Please… please don't…" whimpered the guard as Xander took his aim.

"Sorry," he answered simply as he ended the poor man's suffering with a bullet to the head. He paused finally, looking at the dead body with a touch of guilt piercing through the incredible power rush. Xander sighed.

"Like many stars, you've done tremendous work with teens, trying to warn them about the many danger of drugs and violence, and the importance to stay in school, as well as a multitude of other lessons about growing up. However, unlike a lot of other stars, you've done so by exposing a lot of your own personal experience. Why is that?" asked the reporter on the TV. Xander listen vaguely as he fetched his duffel.

"Well Mary," answered Cordelia Chase, "I always felt it was important, not only that, but it's much more easy to make kids understand if they know where you're coming from. I mean, very often I have young teenage girls come up to me and tell me about how me sharing my experiences with one of my first real boyfriend, the one that cheated on me, has help them live through the same experience. Plus I get to say on television just how lame of a looser he really is, and how much I've grown as a mature adult since I dumped his worthless butt. And that's really gratifying."

The blood splattered TV set exploded. Xander smiled silently as he pumped another round into the shotgun he'd taken out of his duffel bag. He dug through the small arsenal that filled the bag that now rested on the desk, and slung an mp5 around his shoulder.

"Alright," he said after checking his ammo and dropping a few smoke canisters all around the room. "Let's get this show on the road." He listened one last moment to the silence, broken only by the sizzle of the smoke escaping the canisters, his eyes fixed on the chrome security door across the room from him. His hand moved down, and without theatrics, he pressed the alarm button, releasing a high pitch siren.

"It would help quite a bit Faith, if you could only provide us with some clues as to what to expect from Mr. Harris," asked Mason, still, as usual, sitting squarely at his desk, "I've already doubled security, but if I'm to take you at your word that hardly seems enough." This second meeting, so far, had proved as productive as the first. Mason had hoped some time would help cool the blood of both his mercenary and his Slayer, but that theory had turned out to be disappointing. Faith paced around looking angry and nervous, while DeMontagne watched with uninvolved contempt from his usual chair. 

"That won't do shit! Xander's not stupid enough to pull a Buffy on this one. He's not gonna just storm in here. Xander's a cold methodical killer when it comes to revenge. No, he's gonna go guerilla on us for sure."

"Specify," pressed Mason.

"Knowing him, he's gonna sneak in here in broad day light, when people are least suspicious. He'll probably disguise himself as one of the staff, someone that looks totally not suspect-- he'll get all the badges, keys and clearance cards from some poor sucker he's gonna off-- if he hasn't done that already. If I was you, I'd start tagging all the janitors, all the employees and even the security guards. He's likely to use a polymer knife, or something else your metal detectors downstairs won't pick up, so you can forget about that. You should booby-trap the air ducts and put some heavy patrol on the roof; instruct them to look down along side the building too, in case he goes all Spiderman on us and decides to free climb his way up here. One thing is for sure, he's gonna sneak in, and he's gonna wait, wait until one of us is alone and then bam! Lights out. So, if I was you, I'd be real careful next time I take a whiz; you might look up from your dick to find your throat cut."

"What else? I assume it's safe to say we should all restrict our movement outside this building."

"Or maybe we could set a trap," interjected DeMontagne, "Offer one of us as bait, and jump on him when he takes it."

"I'm all for wild, careless plans, but this one reads out like an epitaph. Xander's too fond of bombs and sniper rifles. The second we step outside this building, the question isn't can he get to me, it's more like did he pick me. No amount of guards gonna help."

"So, I ask again, what do you recommend?"

 "I still say the safest course of action is for me to chop off Frenchie's head here and present it as peace offering."

"Fuck you, putain de salope!"

"Fuck you!"

"Enough you two. I say we concent…"

The alarm blazing somewhere in the distance interrupted Mason's reconciliatory speech. He stared with interest as the red blinking of the emergency light on his desk phone, tipping his head to one side as he did. He seized the receiver.

"Yes… huh-huh… thank you." Mason looked rather amused as he pressed a few buttons on his remote; a panel slid, revealing a few security monitors. Mason continued to ignore the questioning stares of his two employees even as he hung up the phone. Instead, he continued typing away on the remote and an image of the lobby was abruptly displayed on the largest of the monitors. Smoke obscured the scene but it was evident a firefight was in progress, Xander ran, slid and rolled, back and forth between the columns as he discharged his shotgun at incoming guards, some humans, some not. Big nasty demons poured out from a security door to the side of the room carrying more arsenal than a small army, yet surprisingly Xander seemed to be fending fantastically well, and that point was further reinforced when one of his grenade took out a few demons huddling together by the door.

"You were saying?" asked DeMontagne with a sly grin. Faith simply glared at him.

A cop car pulled to the curb, it's tire screeching. The two officers jumped out, the metal of their drawn sidearms reflecting the stroboscopic glow of the sirens lights. They stood behind the cover of their vehicle as they stared intensely at the building before them. All they could observe was the muzzle flash piercing through the thick smoke, dozens of weapons being fired at frantic rhythms.

"15-14 responding to… oh shit! Central, there looks like there's somekind of war going down there," spoke one of the officers into his CB. The two looked at each other in fear and disbelief before abruptly ducking as a series of shots, fired from inside, traced lines of holes in the windows, this latest line combined with others to form a dreadful Braille tale of death. The two cops exchanged one more look.

"You want to wait for backup?" The bullet riddled corpse of a large green demon, bursting through one of the glass doors answered the question; his head joining him moment later.

Xander ducked under the claw swipe of the demon and then jumped up to deliver a powerful wheel kick to his purplish-insect-looking adversary. Yet even before it's unconscious body could start to stagger backward, the last demon and the last human alive were on Xander. He slipped, weaved and bobbed, under and aside all the blows coming from both his left and his right. His hands and forearms ached from all the blocking he was doing, always paying special attention to the human who wielded a knife with expert precision. He already had nicked Xander a few times along side the arms.

After constantly backing up before the uncommonly synchronized attack of his two opponents, hardly ever throwing an attack of his own, Xander finally saw an opening and twisted his body out of an incoming knife thrust, using the human unfortunately committed attack to pull him forward, tripping him over a dead body, finally jabbing his knife instead into the last demon's throat. 

The horrified look on the human guard's face lasted only a moment though, as Xander continued his spinning motion, landing right behind his opponent. A quick kick to the back of the knee forced the guard to lean backward sufficiently for Xander to rapidly, and with little resistance, snap his neck.

Xander caught his breath, looking on the carnage all around him revealed by the dissipating smoke. He could hardly believe he had lived through this; twenty bodies or so lied all around, most of them armed and most of them demons of a sort or another. He hadn't expected such resistance, and unless luck had smiled on him in the first time in years, he had obviously underestimated himself. He had unfortunately little time to devote to self-praise and introspection, and so he quickly wiped the blood from his face and picked up his previously discarded weapons, before heading for the elevator.

"No way. No way, Mason," said Faith as she stared at the screen in a strange mix of relief and disbelief. "Xander's wicked bad, but he should be pushing daisies by now. Nothing should have lived through that."

"Well shows how much a women knows about combat," quipped DeMontagne, earning himself another glare from Faith.

"Well, don't worry Faith, he won't survive for much longer—unless he surrenders of course. My men will wait for him at the elevator exit on this floor. It was quite stupid of him, I must say, to trap himself so inside that box."

"But that's what's not Kosher, Mason," continued Faith. "This is so not Xander, he knows better; something's up."

"The Elevator… " pointed out DeMontagne his finger waiving at the screen monitoring the movements of the different lifts throughout the building. "It just stopped at the third floor." The number three blinked a moment on the screen before vanishing, the elevator resuming its climb.

"He got off," said Faith as with a push of a button, Mason's displayed the entire third floor surveillance on the various screens. They rapidly spotted Xander running through the empty corridors, digging through his duffel bag as he went. From it, he pulled C-4 explosive packs that he lined against areas likely to contain beams  

"Merde!" exclaimed DeMontagne, "he's going to blow the building. You weren't kidding, he is insane."

"This doesn't make sense, Xander wouldn't be that sloppy. Plus where did he get that much plastic, he doesn't have the cash for that. I'm telling you, Mason, something's up!" reiterated Faith, growing increasingly jumpy with every moment. She couldn't believe any of it. Had Xander really become this dangerous over the years? No, it made no sense. No human should have survived the shoot out downstairs, she herself might not have, but yet he had. Something was wrong about Xander and suddenly she recalled other instances in their past, where he pulled off some extraordinary feat, like that time in Cairo he took out a Wan-Hai demon in hand to hand combat after it had knocker her out. They chucked it up to her softening him up, but suddenly it didn't feel so likely. For the first time ever, she felt a little afraid of Xander, something inhuman was up with him, that much she could tell by now, and it scared her ever the more knowing how pissed he was. But the approach, the explosives, it was all wrong. Xander was roping them, she was almost sure of it. She was about to mention it yet again, when the blinking light on the elevator monitor suddenly alarmed her, as it indicated its arrival on this floor.

"Oh shit Mason, your men…" Her sentence was punctuated by the elevator bell coming from down the hall. There was a second of silence during which Faith closed her eyes, just in time in fact for the vibrating explosion that followed, and of course, the proverbial screams. Mason barely looked shocked.

"Oh dear," he sighed, almost uninterested. 

Xander concluded his run by sliding on his knees, both his arms outstretched in opposite directions. He fired his two pistols as he slid past the doorway, killing the two demons hiding on either side of the frame. Without time to even catch his breath he rolled out of the way of another fray of bullets coming from behind him. 

After sending a few rounds back down the corridor, he discarded his now empty pistols, arming himself instead with the mp5. He frantically continued his aimless run through the building, literally breaking trough a door here and there; his pursuers always hot on his trail. How they'd gotten down so fast, he couldn't phantom; perhaps there was another security detail in the middle of the building. It didn't matter anyways, as it suited him just fine. He dodged a few more bullets, turned a few corners and left plenty more hats on the ground before he took another corner and suddenly came to face Faith, DeMontagne and Mason and half a dozen demons, staring straight at him at the other end of the hallway. He froze a second, as they did, and then the sound of feet coming down the way he had came, snapped him back to reality.

"What are you waiting for? Shoot him!" commanded Mason, "aim for his legs and arms if you can." However, Xander's quick draw was faster than Mason's minions, and Faith's reluctance to participate, forced her group to split for cover instead, as a Mp5 continual burst cut through two of the demons. 

The weapon clicked, the bolt visible through the chamber's open door: the clip was empty. Panic set in only for a fraction of a second as Xander glanced at his weapon. A fraction was all he had to spare, and so a makeshift plan of dubious sanity was formed. He bolted toward them at full speed, yelling a battle cry as he went.

"What the---?"

They blinked only for an instant, and that was more than Xander had expected. The sound of bullets dancing alongside his feet came to his ears. It was unbelievable; he watched the occasional muzzle flash of his opponents weapons, and though time felt as if it had split to a matter of milliseconds, the chaos of the situation seemed overwhelming. He was so terrified he could hardly breath. Only a few more steps, just a few more paces and he wouldn't die before exacting his revenge. However, with every millisecond another of Mason's minions woke from their stupor and joined the firing squad. 

It quickly occurred to him just how insane and comical this would seem if he could just step outside and watch this scene from the bench; he, miraculously running toward a burgeoning hail of gunfire, yelling like a mad man taking his chances in a minefield. He concentrated on Faith's expression. She too seemed to find this scene rather amusing, or rather she would once the horror wiped itself from her face. Above anything else though, in the little time he had to do anything, he noticed the pistol in her hand, her arm limp by her side.

"Kill him!!!" yelled DeMontagne; time seeming to jolt back into place with his command. He held up his assault rifle and pulled hard on the trigger as most of the demons followed suit. Xander's eyes flashed open and he suddenly shifted his weight pouncing sideway through the door he'd been trying to reach. He rolled off the shattered wood into a long corridor, turning only a second to watch hundreds of bullet holes form themselves on the doorframe. 

He dashed as fast as he could, trying to reach the door at the other end; if he didn't succeed before Mason's goons got behind him, the luck he'd just experience would surely run out. He stole another look over his shoulder at the shadows that neared dangerously to the entrance. He turned his head back to a nasty surprise: a great big green forearm surged from a nearby door and was now outstretched before him. Xander instantly dropped and slid, barely avoiding the clothesline. His reflexes, he congratulated himself, were amazingly sharp today. Unfortunately, the roll that followed was abruptly interrupted as his terrifyingly strong adversary yanked him backward by the leg. 

Blindly kicking backward proved fruitless, as he was pulled up to his feet and ensnared into a chokehold. 

"Ah ah ah!" bellowed his statuesque opponent, "you fight rather well for a puny human. You're slippery like a Strombian Fish Worm."

"Oh no!" grinded Xander through his teeth, his hands gripping hard into the fleshy forearm to attempt to stop the choke. He peaked up at his captor and his fears were confirmed. "A Troll. I hate Trolls."

"Now go to sleep little man, Ugnar will take care off you." Xander spotted the small army taking position at the ruined doorframe, looking very much like they were about to terminate Ugnar's employment among other things. Without any jokes or puns, though a few crossed his mind, he sent his heel into Ugnar's groin, forcing the later to bend his knees just enough for Xander to shatter one of them with yet another kick. The Troll groaned in pain and spun as he fell to his one good knee, exposing his massive back to the fray of incoming rounds. As he vibrated as if a drum of flesh and bones, Xander used the cover the dying Troll provided to plunge and crawl as fast as he could to the safety of the door. 

Xander grimaced as Ugnar's corpse finally surrendered to gravity, exposing him a mere second before he reached his objective. A round caught him in the arm, as he pushed the door open and dove for cover.

"Left," he spoke to himself as he gently inserted a new clip into his rifle. "Why do I always have to hurt my left arm?" He leant back around the corner, hanging low, and let out a burst of round, which aptly took care of the three incoming guards.

"Shit! He rearmed! Get cover!" he heard being yelled at the other end of the corridor. His back hit the wall next to the door and he sighed in relief as he slowly sat down. The wound on his arm was surprisingly superficial after inspection. Lady luck was still smiling on the wicked, for now anyways. His eyes went about the room and quickly noticed there were no exit, only the large windows, the kind that didn't open unless you threw a bottle full of marble through them. He was cornered. He lit up a cigarette and tried to relax for a second, knowing at least no one could sneak up on him.

"Magnificient," said Mason with awe as he peaked over the shoulder of one of his guards. The hallway looked more like a war zone with corpses and gore spread all over, as if it had suddenly became a bridge too far. "You were right, Faith. He's incredible."

"Yeah, well it gets better I'm sure," replied Faith, annoyed at her boss's behavior.

"He's cornered," disagreed DeMontagne, "I think this is over."

"Yeah? How do you plan on getting him out of there?" asked Faith defiantly, but Mason waived them to silence as he raised his voice to call on Xander.

"Mr.Harris! Xander! I have to admit, I'm definitively impressed."

"That's all I ever wanted to hear, Mason. How after-school special of you. There goes that sense of acceptance and approval I wanted growing up." Xander's voice echoed carrying fake sadness and a light hint of amusement.

"Listen Xander, why don't you throw down your weapons and come out so we can talk about your future career in this company. How does 250 000 a year sounds, tax free, of course?"

"Sounds great Mason, how about you come down here so we can discuss the dental plan?" replied Xander 

"Xander, it's not like you have much choice here. You've lost. You might as well make the best of it. Why die today if you can be rich tomorrow?"

"Whoa that's deep, Mason, but who said I've lost? I can still press the button; kill us all. Now, that wouldn't be very pretty, but sure as hell romantic. What do you think, Faith?"

"C'mon Xander," said Faith defiantly, "I know you got the balls, but you think we don't already have a dozen people disarming all those charges you placed? Please, you press your trigger and all you're gonna hear is a big click. Face it Boytoy, you should have stayed home today."

"I know what this is about Xander," added Mason, "and I have to assure you, we had nothing to do with that unfortunate attempt on your life yesterday. Why would we do that? Think. I want you working for us, Xander, not dead?"

"Well I have to admit that does make sense, but I don't trust you, Mason. Faith on the other hand, whom I still don't trust as far as I can throw her, I'll trust to know better than to lie to me on this one."

All eyes turned to Faith and she instantly lowered her head, making it clear with her expression she'd be keeping a resolved silence. She refused to make that mistake; she refused to get involved on this one. If she had any hope of Xander understanding she wasn't to blame, she had to keep free of any contradictory actions. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't her fault.

"Faith say something…" urged Mason, but she didn't budge. Suddenly, an anxious DeMontagne pushed his way past them.

"L'idiote is not going to say anything, and it doesn't matter anyways, he's just trying to buy time; but I'll give him an answer he'll understand." Without hesitation, the mercenary then pulled the pin from a grenade and effortlessly threw it down the corridor. 

 "No, you stupid bastard!" yelled Faith as she grabbed Mason and dove for cover. DeMontagne had a weird expression on his face, not understanding why the slayer reacted as if they were the ones he just put into danger.

Xander used the moment of silence to get back on his feet with a grunt. He knew Faith would at the very least take a few seconds to consider her answer, whether or not she had anything to do with this. That was a good thing because he desperately needed the time. He was starting to question the sanity of his plan, but so far, everything seemed to be going relatively well. Of course there was the small matter of being trapped, wounded and facing insurmountable odds. Xander tried to remain optimistic, as he quickly readjusted his strategy.

Unfortunately, his deliberations were halted by Faith's yell, followed by a metal thud in the hallway. A grenade. Instinct kicked in. By the second thud, Xander was already dropping to his side, his right leg shooting out to form a wide arc kick. He caught the grenade with his foot right before it bounced off the floor a third time, just as it was coming out of the hallway. 

The metal projectile hurled back down the corridor toward the terrified guards, as Xander finally made up his mind. His point had been made; it was now time to move on to phase two of his plan. In plain English, it was high time to get the hell out of there. He opened fire on the window, using the noise of the blast to cover his escape. A rush of hot wind and debris blew past him right before he crashed through the weakened opening in the window.

The grenade had seemed to freeze in midair as it reached the intersection. It was just sitting there like some wild terrifying beast about to pounce. The color had drained from the guards' faces as they watched the deadly explosive, hanging in the moment, a mere foot away from some of them. There was no time for prayer, no time for cover, nor yelling nor cursing. There was only a second of inner piece, or of terror, and then, nothing.

Faith raised her head from the floor and proceeded to flip off the upper half of a disfigured guard that had been thrown on top of her by the explosion. She looked at the carnage all around while dusting herself off. Some of the walls were on fire and almost all the others were painted black and red, and body parts spread out as long as the hallway ran. Mason soon joined her looking rather distraught for once, but still relatively calm.

"Thank you, Faith, that was rather close I would say." 

Then something rummaged under a body a few feet away, on the other side of the hall, and a slightly wounded DeMontagne pulled himself to his feet. Faith's mood suddenly made a U-turn.

"Shit! You survived," she spoke, her words dripping with disgust.

"How the hell did…."

"I've seen him pull off that trick before."

"What is that? It feels like there is a cold breeze coming from down the hall," asked Mason as he stuck a finger into his ear, trying to shake out the ringing. Faith peaked around the corner and lightly gasped, before shifting her jaw around.

"The little bastard escaped through the window."

"Quick you two run down, grab what's left of the men and go after him."

"Mason," protested Faith, "that's not a good idea. There's something going on…"

"There's no time for discussion. Go!"

"You go in!"

"No! You go in!" 

"Why do I have to go in?"

"Because I've got a wife and kids and you don't."

The cops' conversation was halted with a bang as a dark clothed man landed with a shower of glass on the hood of their car, forming a large dent into it. Both cops yelped at the same time and then stared ahead, frozen with stupor, as the suspension settled. The man slowly turned to face them, small cuts above his forehead formed long strings of blood running down the length of his features. He smiled at them, discarding his cracked sunglasses.

"Sorry for the car guys. By the way, there's a bunch of bad guys about to come out of that door over there, you might want to arrest them. Not that I'm trying to tell you how to do your job or anything. Anyway, got to run."

Xander dashed away, heading for his motorcycle parked a street away. He heard the cops shouting for him to stop, but he never turned to watch them draw their guns and waive them menacingly at him. They could have shot him if they wanted, but it might have looked bad, even if there was an assault rifle dangling on his back. He jumped on his motorcycle and waited patiently for his cue.

"He just stopped, why did he stop?" 

Feet shuffled behind the two cops and the sound of broken glass being trampled and crushed, made them aware of that. Their jaw dropped, and so did their weapons, as they gazed at the small army running out of the building, and thankfully past them. A dark haired beauty led the pack decisively, and she looked as if she had been carved of the same brimstone, from which the monstrosities following her had risen.

"We—We give up…"

"Nobody cares," she yelled back, her eyes flashing open as she spotted Xander down the street, staring back at her from his speeding motorcycle. "Over there! He's got wheels!"

"Yes sir… No sir…. Yes I am sorry, but as you… but it was clearly not my fault…no, no, I will take responsibility for my man's action… but on the other hand it succeeded in bringing certain…" 

Mason looked up from his desk at the odd looking demon that had just walked into his office carrying one of Xander's explosive packs. He looked rather embarrassed and at the same time anxious.

"I'm sorry, sir, can you hold just one moment," said Mason before covering the receiver with his hand. "What is it? Didn't my secretary tell you I'm on an important call, that I wasn't to be disturbed?"

"You're secretary's dead, boss."

"Oh, right. What is it then, make it snappy."

"The bombs they're…" answered the demon, looking at a lost for words.

"What is it?" urged Mason.

"They're empty, boss. They're all empty—they're dummies."

"Oh, dear," sighed Mason.

"Are you sure you saw him come in here?" asked DeMontagne as his men dispersed into the large warehouse. Xander had made them chase him for several blocks, Faith the only one close to keeping up with him on her own bike. She finally saw him ditch his Ninja by one of the doors of this gigantic building next to the East river. By the time they all stormed it, he was nowhere to be seen.

"Five by Five. It's a big place, he might be hiding anywhere."

"Ma'am!" called one of the guards. His finger was pointing up at a door high up, leading to the roof. It was ajar, creaking ever so slightly from the wind as moonlight seeped through the opening. 

"He's on the roof," concluded DeMontagne. Faith shook her head, her eyes riveted on the door.

"That's too easy."

"Well, you might be afraid, but I'm not. I'll be up there killing him if you're looking for me."

The Slayer rolled her eyes, and cursing the mercenary's name, she followed his lead as he ran up the stairs to the door. When they got up to the last floor, Faith suddenly noticed something hidden behind a crate. 

"Wait!" she commanded as she carefully made her way toward the object that had caught her attention. With every silent sneaky step, the object became clearer. A foot was sticking out ever so slightly. A victorious smile formed itself on her lips as she sidestepped to widen the angle. She took careful aim, and then, fired. 

The bullet hit it's mark, but there were no reaction or cry of pain, and even worst, there was no blood. She ran to the spot to discover the dead body of a security guard, his throat cut and his uniform unfamiliar. She knelt down to touch the bluish skin of the deceased, and it was ice cold.

"Congratulations," spoke DeMontagne over her shoulder, "you shot a dead man in the foot. It's my turn to be impressed."

"He's been dead for hours. We should get out of here, something…"

"Is not right, yes, you've been saying that since the beginning. Well, let me teach something they might have forgotten to tell you at Dragon-12; things rarely are. You go in there and you do the best you can, and damn the consequences."

Faith scowled him as he resumed his now careful voyage up the stairs. She thought about putting a bullet in the back of his head, she could always tell Mason Xander had done it, but she looked around the room at the fifty or so of their men, and decided against it. Many of the humans were old friends of DeMontagne, and they wouldn't be likely to keep their mouth shut. Instead, she begrudgingly resumed following him.

The roof revealed nothing else from a nice view of the polluted cesspool that was the East river, and of some gloomy warehouses' own roofs. There were no places to hide, and as many time as they turned and whirled around, scanning everywhere, they couldn't find a clue as to Xander's whereabouts. 

"Why would he want us up here?" she asked herself aloud.

"You know," said DeMontagne suddenly pausing, as if some revelation was slowly forming, "I think I know this place. I know this warehouse. This place belongs to Mason." Faith's head snapped in the Frenchman's direction, but the ringing of her cell phone interrupted what she was about to say. She nodded her head a few times as Mason informed her of the absence of plastic in the explosives. She dropped the phone, horror forming itself on her features. She spun quickly before the baffled eyes of DeMontagne and the five men that had followed her up here. She scanned the horizon carefully and finally, she spotted him standing on top of a building some hundred meters away. 

Xander was smiling and smoking a cigarette. When he saw she had noticed him, he dropped the flask of whisky in his hands and waited a second. He waved at her before raising the other arm theatrically. In it, of course, was a remote detonator. Her eyes flashed open and she instantly darted for the river.

"Jump!" she yelled back, DeMontagne and another of the men already taking her up on her advice. Her foot hit the edge of the building and she plunged, the building almost instantly blowing up behind her. She caught a glimpse of DeMontagne, and the other guard, falling to the safety of the water along with her, and also of a second guard, jumping an instant too late, being caught by the flames. He screamed dreadful wail all the way down until they hit the water. 

When her head popped out of the water again, she watched DeMontagne's frustrated expression carefully as he stared at the burning inferno they'd been standing on moments ago.

"Maybe, you were right…"


	4. Choose Your Battlefields

Chapter 4: Choose your Battlefields 

The sound flesh being pulled together, like a leather shoe being laced for the first time, made Xander winced more than the pain itself. He watched Dawn carefully as she sowed his skin shut where the bullet had slashed his arm open. He was still surprised just how much she had grown in the last two and a half-years since he'd last seen her; but he supposed that's how he should feel, how everyone does in this situation. She handled the wound with care and precision, as if she'd been doing it all her life. In a way, she had been.

"So that was your brilliant plan? Almost get yourself killed?" she asked lightly, a smile forming on the edge of her mouth. 

"A small flesh wound to the arm doesn't quite qualify as almost getting killed, Dawn, and I had to make it look real. Otherwise, phase two, would have been an expensive waste of explosives. Not to mention one lonely barbecue."

Katrina entered the living room, holding up some disinfectant and one of Xander's shirts; not far behind her, Marcus followed, his eyes lighting up as he caught his first look of Dawn. Katrina's eyes, for themselves, took full advantage of Xander's bare chest, making a sudden stop at Dawn's fingers, stitching up the cut on his arm.

"Hey," she said impressed, "you're pretty good at this. Are you pre-med too?"

"Nah," she answered, "History. Love the stuff, it's like the more I learn about the past, the more I learn about myself, you know? I want to be a singer anyways, so study is more like a hobby."

"You know," added Xander with a smile, "I thank god everyday I was long gone by the time you guys summoned that singing demon."

"Hey!" replied Dawn offended, and instantly seizing Xander by the ear.

"Ouch!" he yelped as she twisted it hard, "What was that for?"

"I just thought something might be wrong with your sensitivity levels. Just checking," answered Dawn innocently. 

"Huh, singing Demon, that must have been something," proposed Marcus, trying to make his presence noticed. "Hi, I'm Marcus."

"Oh," she answered shaking his hand, "I'm Dawn Summers, old friend of Xander. The non-veangency kind, though. I'm told I should mention that."

"Really, that's good to know. Not that I would ever had thought somebody as good loo…"

"Marcus," interrupted Xander with a tone that immediately wiped the goofy grin off his friend's face, "If you want to keep _it_, I suggest you never finish that sentence." Xander yelped and winced once more as Dawn almost ripped his ear this time.

"Cool down with the over protectiveness," she said decisively, and then added mischievously, "Big Daddy." The comment earned her a scowl, as well as the questioning stares of Katrina and Marcus.

"Big Daddy?" The words escaped Katrina's lips, before her brain informed her it was happening.

"Not like that," answered Xander defensively, his hands raised in front of him. He almost got up but was firmly pulled back down by Dawn, who hadn't finish fixing his wound. "I swear. Tell them Dawn." She rolled her eyes. 

"Geez, the things you do to my ego. Not like that guys… unfortunately. Xander was my legal guardian for a short while, back in Sunnyhell, just until I turned eighteen. That's one of the many reasons I'm no stranger to the fine art of stitching."

"Legal guardian? That would make you Daddy Xander, right?" asked Marcus with a grin. Glares and scowls were appropriately distributed, and the sound of the TV took over their discussion. Midnight approaching, the local news of course featured a rather in-depth look at Xander's earlier activities.

"Earlier tonight, a warehouse near the East River exploded taking the lives of over fifty individuals that police have yet to identify. What these individuals were doing there, and if they had anything to do with the explosion is yet to be determined. A police spoke person revealed however that the large quantities of drugs, guns and other contraband that were found among the rubble seem to indicate that this was likely the work of some organized crime feud.  No word yet as to whether or not there is a connection with the downtown shootout at the Spade-Easton that occurred minutes earlier. " 

Images of the burning building being hosed by several firefighters, and of the two baffled cops trying not to look anymore stupid than they had earlier, flashed before the screen, the feminine voice of the newscaster playing over them.

"Did you do that?" asked Sanaz, suddenly standing in the doorway with Garrett behind her. The latter wore a sling around his arm and a surprised expression to see Dawn there.

"Huh… " started Xander tentatively, not knowing how to read Sanaz's expression. All eyes turned to him and a strange silence formed itself, as if even the TV set knew better and quieted its electric tongue. The tension and pressure was horrible. "… yes?" 

She stood stoically for a moment, Xander tensing up and closing his eyes, waiting for her to throw a fit or send the lamp by her side flying across the room to him. Instead, he opened his eyes to a tight heartfelt hug.

"You did all of that for me, for Gabe?"

"Huh, well… yeah."

"You're such a sweetie," she added pulling back, slapping him on the arm in a friendly gesture. "I swear, if you weren't a borderline psychopath alcoholic, I'd be going all rebound on your sweet tight ass." 

"Huh… thanks… I guess," replied Xander, a bit confused at first, and then smiling slightly at his friend's newly found good mood. She was so jittery that she was almost literally jumping up and down.

"So, tell me. Ding dong the witch is dead, right?" she asked, and Xander's smile disappeared. The uneasiness that had vanished so fast, returned once more and he was again at a lost for word, his eyes fleeing her growingly worried stare.

"Sanaz, that… that was never the plan…."

"Wait that bitch kills my boyfriend, cripples my brother, but because she used to fuck your brains out, you don't plan to do anything about it? So what the hell was that all about? Did you think you could trick me into forgiving you… wait, you know what? Forget it, there's some things you just got to do yourself." She turned around and tried to leave but Xander seized her arm as gently as he could. She instantly scowled him, her eyes stared with repulsion at his grip, but he kept it firm.

"You can forget about me letting you walk out that door, Sanaz. You go after Faith, looking for vengeance, she'll kill you. Now I didn't do that for nothing, you're gonna get your revenge, but you got to understand, everything has its time."

"Time? Bullshit! Time is what you're buying yourself. You don't want to take her out so you're inventing yourself excuses to believe you're doing something about this problem. Well you know what? You're not. The bitch that killed my boyfriend is still alive…"

"But Faith didn't do this," threw in Dawn, standing up next to Xander. "She couldn't have."

"Who the hell are you, and what the fuck do you think you know about this?"

"Listen I know I don't know you, and you don't know me, but please just take my word for it. She would never do this. Faith… she, well she is kind of wild and uncontrollable, and yes… sometimes evil, but Xander's like the closest thing she has to family. He's… well he's the only man she's ever loved."

"Whoa, where did the love thing come from. I thought we were talking about hate, can't we keep on the subject here," shrieked Xander, nervous as hell and forgetting completely what the discussion was really about.

"Will you please shut up, O emotionally repressed one. Listen, Faith might kick his ass, break every bones in his body, hell, even kill him one of these days, but she wouldn't ever hurt him like that. And not only because she knows Xan would never forgive her."

"Really?" asked Sanaz unconvinced.  

"If you're asking that, than I guess you don't know what our common friend here is really capable of. Because if I ever killed one of you, and mind you I love Xan, but I'd set myself on fire instead of living to see what his psychotic mind would have in store for me. And Faith knows that better than I do. Also, let me reference to the fifty or more dead people he just killed to make a point."

"Make a point?" Eyes turned to a tied tongue Xander who glared at Dawn. How she got so good at knowing what he was thinking, he didn't know. Even more importantly, she had made sure to play innocent until now, and he took notice of that. Dawn had grown to be an astute little manipulator, bidding her time properly. 

"Prison mentality," he answered mysteriously.

"Prison mentality?" asked Katrina, intrigued, as they were all.

"Yeah, somebody pushes you, you push back twice as hard. Somebody kills one of your buddies, you kill two of his. That's the way you get respect. My point is fuck off, I can get to you, I'm stronger than you, and whatever you throw at me, I'll throw you twofold if not more. It's to make them think, make them afraid. If they start asking themselves, is it worth it, is what we're gonna do worth the price he'll make us pay for it. Then they blink, they hesitate, they become afraid and weak, and suddenly I dictate the rules of the game."

"But what if they don't care?" asked Sanaz, still angry, but slowly surrendering herself to Xander's logic.

"Mason loves money, trust me he cares. He cares about the cash I just cost him, not to mention the unfortunate attention I brought to his illicit activities. Don't worry Sanaz, I'll get you your pound of flesh before this is over."

"You best be right about this Xander… you best be right." His grip on her arm loosened and she made her way back toward the stairs. Escaping to her room, seemed like the thing to do at the time, but she stopped for a second, just enough to turn around and let out a revelation to her friends. "Gabe is gonna live, he might loose the use of his legs, but he's gonna live; if anybody even cares."  

She vanished, as everyone let out a sigh of relief or just let their tense shoulders slump down. Xander even tried to light up a cigar as he sat back down, but Dawn slapped it away from his mouth and followed with another twisting of his ear.

"Owwww!"

"No smoking! It's not good for you…"

'My god!" said Xander exasperated, "I so need a drink right now…. Owwwww!"

"No alcohol! Don't make me use my resolved face, now."

"What are you? My mother, Dawn? I think you have our roles reversed here."

"If you think I'm just going to let you destroy yourself all over again, you've got another thing coming, Lavelle. From now on, there'll be no booze, no drugs, no bloodwine…"

"Hey! I've never touched bloodwine in my life!" 

"Oh spare me the denial, Xan. What about that bottle I found in the dryer?"

"That was Spike's, I swear! How many times am I gonna have to have this discussion. I swear I've never touched the stuff."

"What exactly is going on here?" asked Garrett, bringing the room's attention on himself; he could only endure being ignored for so long. "Were you two married or something? I'm only asking because you two sound just like it. And by the way, is there any gorgeous new girl in town that you don't already know from your seemingly cover model filled past?"

"Oh shit, Garrett," exhaled Xander with sorrow, rising to his feet once more. "I'm sorry man, I didn't see you there. Listen I—"

"Oh shut up Harris, I'm not a baby. So I got shot, big deal. If it weren't for what happened to Gabe and Carl, I'd qualify this as a good experience. I mean—do you have any idea how many girls I'm gonna score with now that I actually have a bullet wound. Chicks love tough guys."

"Believe me," interrupted Dawn with an annoyed tone, "He knows all about that."

"This is Xander's daughter," explained Marcus, a malicious grin on his lips.

"Oh Daddy Xander's daughter, huh? I must admit," said Garrett, his tone suave, "that kind of turns me on."

"Marcus, you have five minutes," said Xander with a scowl, "run."

"Calm down, Xan. Don't make me start revealing all your darkest secrets." Dawn intervened as Marcus hesitated between taking Xander's threat with seriousness or jest. "Why don't we concentrate on the task at hand instead? What's step three?"

"Step three is simple, suicidal, but simple. It more or less revolves around me kicking Faith's ass."

"You and which one of your imaginary friends, Xan?"

"I think I can take her Dawn, I have a plan. And more impotently, I can't afford not to. She's been pushing me, and I've been letting her. She didn't attack us that night; I know it in my guts. But I can't wait until she finally does snap, or has a momentarily lapse of judgment. I have to stop her now, I have to make her understand what I made Mason understand today. It's got to be me and her, and nobody else."

"She'll kill you. You don't even have a sword, maybe if you did you'd…"

"Hojiro, my teacher, always said I could defeat your sister if I tried to kill her and stopped myself at the last second. I never could do that, not with her, not with Faith. But things change Dawn; hearts grow cold. I'm not going to let her push me around anymore, I'm going to show her who's the Captain to her Tenille."

"Captain to her Tenille?"

"Shut up."

"Prison mentality, huh?" noted Mason, having just spent the last twenty minutes listening to Faith's explanations. Both her and DeMontagne barely had had time to change before they'd been called back to the office for a thorough chewing out.

"Like I said. I thaught him that."

"I understand that, Faith. What I don't understand is how it happened. Don't I pay you two to protect my assets, most of which were destroyed last night? Don't I pay you to tell me in advance what Xander might be thinking? Do you have any idea, any at all, what this little show of strength of his just cost me? Not to mention I'm going to liquidate a relatively small, but still important part of my remaining assets, just to bribe the hell out of the New York Police Department. "

"Fuck off, I was telling you he was up to somethin'. And it wasn't my bright idea to go and piss on his gate in the first place."

"What?" interrupted DeMontagne, "How was I supposed to know?"

"How did he found out about the warehouse? You know, what? Never mind, I don't even want to know. It's gonna take me months to hire some new personnel. Nobody who's heard of this massacre is going to want to work for us, nobody we want anyways. How many people do we have left, DeMontagne?"

"About a dozen, mostly humans."

"Good, at least that's something. We have another problem though. With the warehouse gone, we've lost our ability to import personnel, artifacts and contraband. I'm afraid we're going to be low on cash for the next little while, and that, I need not tell you, is very disappointing. Our employer is getting impatient, and as much as he is amused by these latest developments, he wants results. Hence, we need the medallion all the more now."

The phone rang throughout Mason's speech. He stared at it as the red light bleeped, it just wouldn't shut up and it reminded Mason of his dead secretary. Replacing her would be very inconvenient. He finally sighed and picked up the receiver.

"Yes?"

"Hey, Mason, buddy. Wassssssupppp?" The voice on the other end was instantly recognized, and not knowing whether to smile or sigh once more, he remained stoic. He pressed the speaker button as he gave Faith a look.

"Xander, calling to gloat I assume."

"Well Mason, my old friend, I was just wondering if my girl Faith enjoyed her little swim?"

"Fuck you, Lavelle."

"Whoa, where's all that aggression coming from? I thought that time of the month wasn't for another week or so."

"What? You expect me to be all grateful and shit, just cause you didn't off me when you had the chance. That's your second worst mistake of the day, you retard."

"Please children," intervened Mason, "Perhaps you would consider ceasing this little lovers quarrel long enough for you to reveal the reason behind your call, Xander."

"Well Mason, I feel kind of bad. I feel like I might have gone overboard a bit, and I want to give you a chance to make it up."

"How's that?"

"I'll be on the hundred and twenty-sixth floor of the new Peterman building, you know which one I'm talking about. I'll be alone. Faith shows up, I'll give her a shot at the medallion; otherwise, I'll disappear, forever. I got my bags packed and everything, and Faith will tell you, I'm good at disappearing."

"You want me to come alone?" asked Faith defiantly.

"Would your little master let you if I asked? No, bring as many as you want, I don't care, more meat for the grinder."

The line went dead and the three unholy allies exchanged a look.

The hollow metal structure sprouted out some thirty floors below, out of a concrete mouth of urban architecture. From there, red beams intersected with planks and chrome metal sheets to form an insane maze, the skeleton of the city's newest giant. The Peterman Building had a target completion date that had expired two months ago; it seemed to Xander it would take the boys another six to really finish it. When they would, though, this would be the world tallest building, giving the housing prestige to NY once more.

With his back pressed against an upright beam, only a few floors away from the top, Xander stared out into the starry night with a feeling of overwhelming power coursing through him. It was a feeling very akin to the one experienced by mountain climber upon conquering their highest peak. Up there it was terrifyingly windy, his old black fatigues, which he had opted over his regular clothes, flapped about constantly. He was a shadow, only that sound betrayed him, but there was nothing to do about it. He adjusted his facemask and took a second to wipe the dust off the Dragon-12 insignia on his shoulder. It felt good to be back in uniform, even for such a dire purpose. He waited, without the slightest fear or impatience.

"I can't protect you." Her voice echoed like Death, vibrating though the wind like it didn't exist. Buffy stood at the other end of the beam, looking at him with sad eyes. "She's a slayer, one of the primal forces of this world. Our connection is growing, but it's nowhere near that. I won't be able to protect you."

"I wasn't counting on it," answered Xander unaffected by her presence. "If you wanted to help, you could have given me more of a warning yesterday, or maybe you even could have said something the day before, Skoll."

"I'm here to help you on your path, not baby you Xander. I kept you alive, maybe everything else was meant to happen… And you could call me Buffy." She asked the last bit with a shy but hopeful smile on her lips. She took a few steps forward; her ethereal form, unwavering despite the raging cold winds. Snow began to fall.

"Yeah," answered Xander, a hint of bitterness in his voice. He stared away from the painful image of Buffy, instead concentrating on the snowflakes suddenly floating down from the sky. "But then, I wouldn't get to hurt your feelings." The snow was a nice touch he thought, it had been getting uncharacteristically colder the last few days and it was only appropriate that bad weather would come and complicate his plans. Nature the sweet unforgiving bitch, the unseen player upon the stage.

"Who the hell you talking to, Gramps?" Garrett's voice came crackling over the personal radio. Buffy was gone, but Xander didn't loose a beat, pressing his fingers against his earpiece.

"Nobody, Dragon-3. Please use proper radio format and code. Over."

"Alright, alright…" Xander could picture Garrett rolling his eyes into the back of his head. "Dragon-1, this is Dragon-3. Who the hell are you talking to, sir? Over."

"Cut that 'sir' shit, or I'm gonna break your other arm when this is over. Over." Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes into the ops and he was already regretting letting Dawn convince him to let them all come along. With a slightly damaged arm, and the now foul weather, it still seemed like he had made the smart choice. He stared out to his left toward Garrett's sniper nest on top of a nearby skyscraper. 

"Dragon-3. This is Dragon-1. How's your visual? Over."

"Snow is starting to get heavy, but that night vision lenses thingy is a charm. I can see your eyes. Is there a zoom thing on this?"

"Do me a favor Dragon-3, point that thing somewhere else, and whatever you do don't touch the dials, I got the thing set for this wind speed, and besides your too close for it to make much difference. Over."

"Dragon-1, this is Dragon-4. Lock and loaded, we're ready to fire at your command." Marcus was obviously enjoying himself; Xander just hoped he and Sanaz hadn't mounted the 50-caliber machine gun improperly. The last thing he wanted was for the antiquity he'd borrowed from a local reserve infantry regiment to blow up in their faces. Their own nest had been dug into another nearby skyscraper, they'd settled on the top floor, knocking out one of the windows with a silenced pistol and a sledgehammer. This way, a big L was formed between the two nests and Xander's position at the middle. So far so good, especially for people who'd just received a twenty minutes crash course on military tactics and weapons operation.

"Glad you're enjoying yourself Dragon-4, just don't get too trigger happy, you fire where and when I tell you to. Remember, I'm not bullet proof, even if I was, fifty caliber rounds go through most light tank armor like it's butter, so try and keep clear of the upward beams too. I don't want this whole building collapsing on me. Over."

"By the way, Garrett's right. This night vision lens is real cool…"

"Use the codes, use the goddamn codes, Dragon-4… you know what? Forget it. Just remember to close your eyes when they get here and keep them shut tight until I tell you to. That goes for all of you. You too Dragon-2" 

"Dragon-2?"

"Dragon-2 come-in. Use you're hand mic. Click twice if you can't talk…"

"Dawn?" 

The lift trembled as it flew by floors and floors at sickening speed, Faith tried to stay strong and keep her stomach in check. She was relieved when the lift finally reached the top floors, exiting its concrete prison and exposing its fourteen passengers to the cold refreshing air of a burgeoning snowstorm. She took a big whiff, and kept up trying not to look down. She was scared, even more, she was terrified, and she hoped none of the men would notice the lift wasn't the only thing shaking.

"This is a trap," commented DeMontagne.

"Of course it's a trap-- for you. I think he's got something special in mind for me."

"You ready to bet your life on that, Slayer?"

"No, but I'm wicked ready to bet yours. Anyway, don't matter. We don't have much choice, we'll just have to try and beat Xan at his own game."

The lift came to a sudden stop. Faith was wired so tight, she almost jumped from the jolt. All stares were on her, and unlike usual, she felt uncomfortable about that. Decisively, she swung the doors open and stepped out onto the beam in front of her.

"Why did he pick this place, anyways?"

"Because it's high, because we're going to be forced to look where we steppin'. It's the fear factor, fear slow you down, makes you weak and indecisive. That and now with the snow and all, this place is slippery as hell."

"But those factors disadvantage him as well."

"No, not Xan. He spent like two years working as a construction worker; this is home for him." She took a few step forward, the others following, suddenly she slipped, her foot loosing its grip on the wet metal beam. She fell to her knees, and launched herself forward to catch a grip of the nearest column. She hugged it like a little child, like she was hanging on to life itself. Inadvertently, as she had struggled not to fall to her doom, she had looked down; vertigo was invading her and her breath was erratic. 

"What the hell are you doing?" DeMontagne's voice snapped her back to reality, and to the job at hand. She carefully pulled herself up. She might be petrified, but she wouldn't give anybody the satisfaction of seeing her like this. She just had to soldier on. 

"I don't like heights," she answered throwing a preemptive glare at DeMontagne. He watched her disbelievingly for a moment; she looked like a child learning to skate for the first time. He opened his mouth to say something, and was interrupted by a blast behind him. The elevator's cables had just exploded releasing it into oblivion with two helpless member of their team coming along for the ride. They screamed their lungs out as they realized the emergency breaks had been cut as well.

"… and then they were twelve," quipped Faith, a weak smile showing on her face.

"Made it m'ma!" yelled out a voice from behind a column a floor above them. "Top of the world!!! Ooooo!" 

DeMontagne lost no time, making quick hand-gestures, signaling to his men to spread out and try to surround Xander. For himself, the latter just rested there, his back still against the column.

"What's wrong, Faith? Shaking in your boots already? We haven't even started yet."

"You'll wish you never have when I'm through with you Boy Toy."

"I got a shot, sir!" yelled out one of the merc, his weapon aimed carefully at Xander who seemed to playing around with something, throwing up and down in his right hand. 

"Take it!" urged DeMontagne.

"Belay that!" yelled out Faith who forced herself to stand tall. "Remember Mason's orders. We want him alive, with the medallion."

"Surrender now, Harris," yelled out DeMontagne, annoyed but obedient. "Give up the medallion and I won't have to unfortunately go against my employer's wishes."

"Well you drive a hard bargain DeMontagne, but I see you clearly have me beaten. Nice night visions goggles on your men, by the way. So, I guess I should put my hands up. Up they go…" 

Xander did as he said but something slip through his fingers and twirled downward to the level of his aggressors, finally hitting a wooden plank, once, twice… Faith's eyes lit up but that's all they had time to do, her arm instinctively tightening its grip on the beam. DeMontagne lips barely started to form a curse. The flashbang exploded.

A bright white fireball lit up the New York sky, and the deafening sound of the device woke up people for miles. The device normally used to distract and disable, to give an entry team the advantage of confusion over their enemies, proved much deadlier in this situation. For the team of mercenary, with their night vision goggles on, there was only darkness now. Their eyesight would most likely suffer permanent damage and for now the blindness was total and unforgiving. The only thing they could hear was a high pitch sound that vibrated incessantly and impaired their balance. Two guards slipped backward falling to their death; their screams never to be heard by any of their comrades or themselves. 

"Dragon-4, this is Dragon-1, open your eyes and take out everybody to the right of the middle column. Over."

"Dragon-3, Open your eyes, try and take out the guy at your four O'clock, Over."

Xander quickly spun. He had made sure to steer the fire away from Faith, not wanting one of his friends' stray bullets to catch her by mistake. Having closed his eyes and covered his ears with his hands, he was relatively unaffected by the blast which permitted him to personally take care of anybody close to her. He unloaded two bursts, each taking care of one helpless guard. Faith just knelt there, continuing to hug the column like the blind kid she was. 

He waited but didn't hear any shots, not from the sniper or from the cal 50. He spun back, and reached for his earpiece.

"Dragon-1 to all, what the hell's wrong. I gave you guys the green light, Open fire!"

"Xander…" Marcus' voice came through, "they're… they're human, dog."

"Fuck," said Xander to himself. He should have known this would happen, but there was no use arguing now. He slipped around the other side and opened fire himself. He killed one of them before bullets flying his way forced him to retreat back. DeMontagne, who like Faith, hadn't been wearing night vision, had already shook it off.

"I need that support fire now, people. Buck up, do your job. A life's a life, doesn't matter if it's human or demon, it taste the fucking same…"

"Arrrrggg!" yelled the guard straight ahead from Xander's position. He slipped of his goggles and started to fire half-blind at Xander's position. Suddenly, before Xander could turn his weapon on him, his head exploded, the night echoing the sound of the Psg-1 sniper rifle.

"You fucking liar," sent Garrett through Xander's earpiece, his voice had a hint of bitter sarcasm, "this feels nothing like killing a demon. I feel like puking."

"Welcome to cherry-free county, Garrett," sent back Xander as he sprinted across the beam, bullets bouncing all around him. It seemed almost everybody had woken from their semi-comatose state, and even if their aim was now severely impaired, Xander doubted he'd make it to cover. 

Thankfully, the indisputable sound of the .50caliber machinegun came into play, and Xander looked back just in time to see a row of guards being decimated. He jumped and took hold of a rope he had stashed there in case of such emergency. With a flick of his knife he sliced the rope holding back the counterweight, and was pulled up faster than DeMontagne's aim could follow. He noticed on his way up that the machinegun was still firing, showing no hint that it would be stopping any time soon. Marcus apparently had momentarily flipped and couldn't stop himself, a rather usual reaction for someone as green. The white incandescent glow of the tracer rounds started bouncing off the beams, 

"Marcus, cease firing, you're weakening the structure."

"Sorry, man. I got… I just got carried away."

"That's alright Marcus. Everybody cease-fire. You officially got your first taste of homicide, you might want to take a moment now, and reflect on it," said Xander before swinging himself onto a metal platform. He looked back down at the carnage and saw a couple of forms moving about. "Ok, now we just have to see if they'll follow up."

"Maybe we should retreat, sir?" asked one of the two surviving mercs. DeMontagne look down toward Faith, who forced herself up to her feet with hatred.

"Retreat! No, we're not fucking retreating. We came here we're gonna finish what we started."

"Faith, he's got a sniper and…" started DeMontagne before being abruptly stopped.

"No! We are not stopping," she drawled, "He has a sniper and a machine-gunnist who'll be useless once we climb a couple more floors, besides if he wanted them to finish us off we'd be dead. Let's be good little mice and follow the trail to the fucking cheese, or do I need to remind you the medallion is on the line. We leave, he disappears; it's as simple as that. You got it."

DeMontagne eye's pointed down for a moment as if he was actually ashamed for considering any other options. He raised them back to meet hers and he nodded. He'd follow her into hell and back. He couldn't believe he actually taken a liking to the raven haired Slayer, but that's the way the world works; it just keeps on surprising you. She had finally earned his respect, what little he could give to anybody else. Suddenly one of the mercs at the back raised his hand to ask for permission to speak, and Faith just stared at him with disbelief.

"What?"

"I didn't hear what you just said, could you repeat it. I've got this nasty buzzing sound in my ears."

They climbed up pairs by pairs, each one taking one of two sets of stairs leading up. Faith led one team and DeMontagne the other. They were hoping to get the drop on Xander by attacking from two positions at once. Hopefully, he hadn't thought of that and trapped one of the staircases with explosives. That seemed unlikely, but there was no turning back now.

Faith was walking slowly, enjoying the only peace she could find. Stairs were a delight in a world where leaning a few inches to the right or the left could mean life or death. She popped her head above the opening, checking around quickly, and found nothing. She waited a moment as DeMontagne did the same across the building from her. It seemed clean, but as she waited, Xander made his way stealthily behind the man bringing up the rear. 

Faith kept scanning carefully as below, Xander cupped his hand around the man's mouth and drove his knife straight down into the fleshy part above the collarbone. A quick gesture toward the exterior severed the man's subclavian artery. He held on strong for the necessary three seconds needed before death, dragging the very lively merc, who tried his best to pierce the chatter of the raging snowstorm with his muffled dead cries. He soundlessly flipped the body over the side and retreated back into darkness. 

When Faith turned around, there was nothing, else than the same feeling one gets when one has just been outwitted. She was going to kill the bastard.

"DeMontagne! Watch out, he just killed my backup!"

"What do we do now? We keep going up, or we look for him down there."

"Let's keep going up, like that, we make him come after us, turn the table on him. DeMontagne!" she yelled the last part as Xander popped up from underneath the beam where DeMontagne and his man had been standing, and latched on to the latter's leg, flipping the unfortunate bastard over the side. DeMontagne tried to turn his firearm onto Xander, who hung on by just one arm, but he swiftly slipped underneath and swung himself to the other side of the beam. DeMontagne was left firing a burst into nothingness as Xander continued his swing and swiped DeMontagne legs with a swift kick. 

Faith aimed her pistol carefully at Xander's crouched form on the beam, but even before she could try to make up her mind to press the trigger, he was suddenly yanked down from below. DeMontagne had grabbed onto his leg as he was falling over, bringing Xander along for the ride. Xander's hand reached up and clawed for a grip, but his gloved fingers slid along the wet metal. They fell into darkness.

Faith's heart skipped a beat, her eyes snapped shut. This couldn't be it. Xander wasn't supposed to die that way. He was a hero, just like in all those flicks she used to sneak into as a kid. He was the kind of person that was supposed to live forever, and if he did die, it wasn't supposed to be like this, it was supposed to be some grandiose gesture, some selfless act of self-sacrifice, not some bad roll of the dies. Her pistol slipped out of her hands, and she fell to her knees. She felt dizzy staring down into the darkness, but she couldn't help it. She waited, hoping for some sign of life, the respond she received was two large thuds. Her eyes snapped back open, the sound came from only a few floors down; there was a definite chance he had survived.

Xander's vision phased back in time for him to instinctively swing his leg up and kick DeMontagne's sidearm out of his hands; the shot deviated to about an inch from his face. The mercenary apparently had landed on bags of powdered cement, which were a tad more absorbent than the wooden bridge that was now bent around Xander's shape. He was already up and Xander had to fight the tremendous pain flashing throughout his entire body just to use the momentum of his kick to flip himself to his feet.

He didn't make it half-way up before DeMontagne delivered a powerful kick to his spine. The solid red metal column seemed to shake as Xander violently crashed against it. The pain was indescribable, but at least he had managed to make it to his feet. He didn't loose a second, a smile forming out of a pained grunt.

"You fight like a woman." Xander instinctively escaped to his right, and got a glimpse of DeMontagne's knife. The slash that had been aimed at the back of his neck had brought the blade against the metal of the beam and it formed a line of sparks as it rapidly dragged across it. 

DeMontagne spun and continued his slash, Xander barely managing to pull his head back in time. A thrust followed and then another slash, both aptly blocked by Xander, but the third slash hit its mark, though only by half a centimeter. DeMontagne felt a sense of pride and success as he watched the red line draw itself across Xander's chest, but that was short-lived as he felt the iron grip on his wrist. He couldn't explain it, but suddenly he was on his back some ten feet away, skidding on a beam while miraculously managing not to fall over.

"I was wrong," said Xander, standing calmly as he studied the blood his hand had collected from his wound, "you fight like a girl with a knife."

DeMontagne let out a battle cry and charged his enemy, however, Xander assumed too quickly he was as stupid as this maneuver seemed to indicate. When DeMontagne stopped himself short, he caught Xander by surprise. The latter still managed to dodge, weave and block his way out of the oncoming strikes, but while always loosing ground, scrambling for balance. His back hit the wall, and the merc instantly tried to capitalize on it by switching to an icepick grip and going for the full strength stab to the heart. Xander fortunately grabbed it, but the merc pressed on, and they were suddenly locked in a pure contest of strength, the knife slowly continuing its voyage. 

Xander realized a few things early on. Knives are sharp, snow is cold and DeMontagne was physically stronger than him. He kept cool, his mind racing for a way to escape this most dangerous predicament.

"I've been waiting for this for so long," said DeMontagne, enjoying himself.

"It's funny," replied Xander in between grunts, "I never gave you a second thought."

"You're going to die, Harris. How does it feel to have your life slip away and not be able to do anything about it? Can't you hear death calling your name?"

"I am death," spat Xander before doing the only thing he could. He pushed hard to the right forcing the knife away from any vital area, and then pushed himself forward. He impaled himself on the knife willingly, the blade cutting into his shoulder, but he swiftly shared his pain to DeMontagne in the form of a nasty head butt. And then another, and then another. He actually heard the bone of his opponent nose shatter, right before he switched to another attack, his knee connecting with the bastard's groin. DeMontagne, well trained and full of will, tried to pull out his weapon but Xander stopped him, his right hand holding the knife firmly into his wound. Meanwhile, his left hand pulled back and then shot forward, forming a terrifyingly powerful palm strike to DeMontagne solar plexus. The mercenary flew back where he came from, as winded as he could ever remember being. He slid all the way to the next column until his head banged up against the red upward beam.

"Ouch! That's got to hurt. Well you know what they say, when in Rome, get ready to get crucified. I never knew if I got that one right, but I steer clear of Italy in general just to be on the safe side," said Xander, as he strutted forward pulling the knife out of his shoulder. 

"Tell me something, I'm pretty sure you had some hand in what happened to my friends, don't answer though, I really don't care to hear you lie, or even worse gloat. I just want to know, in Dr. Hannibal's famous words: "Bowels in or bowels out?" Well you seemed kinda dazed, why don't you let me decide for ya."

"Why don't you just shut up and think up a prayer," replied DeMontagne as he drew a pistol he had hidden in his boot. Xander froze up in his tracks. He didn't hold the knife in a way in which he could possibly throw it, and standing on a beam left him little option for dodging. He watched as DeMontagne raised himself to his feet and obeyed when he was motioned to chuck the weapon over the side. He was simply fucked.

"Nice gun."

"Thanks. You know, I hate to admit it, but you are better than me. That doesn't matter though, now does it? It doesn't matter who's better, all that matters at the end of the day, is who's left standing, and today, you're not going to be it. Where do you want it?"

"Hey!" called out a voice from the darkness, it was followed by the sound of a new cartridge being pumped into a shotgun. Both men turned their heads and watched the young woman standing on the next parallel beam, her weapon expertly pointed at DeMontagne. Dawn cracked a smile. "How do you say goodbye in French?" She unloaded her cartridge before he could even blink. The shot hit him square in the chest and he was propelled over the side, to dip into darkness once more. 

Xander was speechless for a moment, as Dawn, glowing with pride, leaned the shotgun back across her shoulder. 

"How did you get up here? And why the hell didn't you answer when I called you on the Com?"

"Aren't I allowed to make a big entrance every once in a while? No, I'm little useless Dawny, only good at getting herself kidnaped? Is that it, Mr. I-Would-Be-Dead-If-You-Hadn't-Shown-Up?"

"Listen I… okay, Thank you Dawn. Thank you for saving my life, and I am impressed, but how the hell did you get up here?"

"That's my secret. So you're really impressed, huh?"

"Well it could have used more of a pun, but overall I give it an eight."

"Dawn?" asked an incredulous Faith as she strode down to the opposite side of Xander's beam. She looked as if she seen a ghost, and more than ever, she looked torn and confused. Her whole body heaved as her breathing accelerated.

"Faith!"

"Dawn," interrupted Xander, his tone wiping the excited smile off her face, "Get out of here. Everybody, Operation Privacy is a success; go home."

"What the hell are you talking about, I'm not going anywhere…"

"Lil' Sis', do what he tells ya, get outta here," Faith spoke while staring straight ahead at Xander. She couldn't bear to look again at Dawn, no matter how much she wanted to; this was too much to handle. She felt too ashamed.

"No! I didn't just kill a man to watch you two pound each other until death and all the other nasty stuff ensues."

"You're not gonna watch Lil' Sis, that's why you're going to leave."

"No, just… just tell him you had nothing to do with it. Tell him you didn't shoot his friends." Faith froze up and looked down a for moment. Her thoughts were running a mile a minute and suddenly the strangest sensation came over her. A deep sadness invaded as she looked up into Xander's unforgiving eyes. She loved him, there was no longer any question about it. Anger surged through her and she started to tremble.

"I did it," she finally lied expertly, her features twisted into a wicked smile. "You wouldn't believe how wicked fun it was to slay your friends, Xander, with you right there unable to do anything about it. I knew you'd dodge the first shot. I thought once your friends were bleeding to death before your eyes, maybe then, maybe then you'd realize just what a pathetic pussy you are. Maybe you'd take your place as my rightful property. I have to say though, torturing you, way more fun than I had imagined."

"No, you're lying!" yelled Dawn, not believing what she was hearing.

"Dawn!"

The young woman shuddered at the aggression behind Xander's yell. He pulled off his facemask and she saw that beneath his cool, stoic exterior boiled more emotions than she could begin to understand. Tears forming in her eyes, she slowly pulled back, complying with his order. She pretended to leave and instead found a spot in the darkness from where she could watch what happened next.

The pair stood, the wind brushing their hairs wildly while snow settled on their features. Their eyes were locked, and they kept quiet for a while.

"She just killed DeMontagne?" asked Faith.

"Looks like; I guess teaching her how to shoot finally paid off."

'That's my girl," she said with sad expression and a hint of pride. 

"Yeah, she turned out pretty well." Silence settled back in as there was really no more chitchat to buy time with. After a while, Faith took a long breath and changed back her expression to the tough chick act she had resolved herself to play.

"So that was your big plan, Boytoy? Get me up here so I can kick your ass? Wicked. That's totally five by five."

"What makes you so sure you're gonna kick my ass?"

"What? You think you're silly little medallion is gonna protect you from me? Like it did Tara? Dream on lover."

Xander's eyes spoke his response as he reached in and pulled Skoll out of his shirt. He slipped it out of around his neck and slung it around a metal spike that was sticking out of a nearby column. It hung, balancing gently in the wind. 

"I don't need Skoll, Faith. I already got all the advantages I need. Look at yourself standing there, trembling. You're still afraid of heights remember?"

"You think a little fear is gonna stop me from stomping you?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. All I want to know is how fast you think you're going to be able to move now, Faith? Why did you think I brought you up here? For the view?"

"You're way mental. I'm the bad; I'm the Slayer, Xander. You're my bitch!"

"Not up here, Faith. Not anymore. Papa's got a brand new bag."

"Fuck you! Can't beat me for real, so you gonna try to cheat, huh?"

"Hey, I'm just picking my battlefields. The art of war, Firecracker. The art of war."

"Boytoy, I'm gonna teach you things about war, you wished you'd never learned," yelled Faith as she threw off her jacket from her shoulders. She stepped forward menacingly, shifting into a fighting stance. 

"One rule," yelled back Xander, his hands rising up in elaborate motions as he stepped forward to meet Faith. Their arms gently connected at the back of the wrist, and their silhouettes became intertwined. He winked at Faith, a grin on his lips. "Don't fall."

Spread in darkness before Dawn's eyes were shadows facing each other in a hail of snow, two shapes locked, their fighting stances aggressive, like two dragons devouring each other mercilessly. Neither Xander nor Faith seemed to want to make the first move, but neither would back down. They stood in eternity, the dark evening sky breathing down on them. Faith made the first move.

She slapped his hand away with a nudge of hers and moved in with the other for a punch. Xander didn't block, instead he snapped his leg up and drove it hard into her solar plexus. His counterattack worked, forcing the winded slayer back before she could complete her strike. Faith blinked, Xander had never displayed such aggression, at least not against her. He was playing for keeps. 

He was on her before she could even finish staggering backward. His fists connected with her face in a fury of a combination. Unbalanced, she tried to block, but he just kept slipping through defenses. She finally regained her balance and deflected the incoming blow, following with a punch of her own. Xander dodged under it and delivered one to her stomach, driving her back farther.

Her second attack missed and the third finally landed but the punch had little effect on Xander, his head snapped back toward her just as quickly and he wore a big smile on his face, as if madness had overtaking him, as if the pain was enjoyable. He tried to backhand her to the face but she caught it and used his arm to steady herself as she attempted to kick him. However, Xander's leg shot out and met hers midway, effectively blocking the slayer's attack and sending pain running down her leg. He seemed about to follow with an uppercut but Faith instantly reacted despite the pain, pulling him into a clutch. 

"Not bad, Harris," she breathed into his ear. "You're finally showing me what you're made of. But remember, all I need is to land one good punch and your dreams of boy power go bye-bye."

"Just shut up and dance," grunted Xander before driving his knee into her ribs. He followed the attack with a headbutt, knowing that would prompt her to try to knee him back. Faith's head snapped backward and anger filled her. Her body was stronger, it could absorb twice the impact Xander could, and he knew that. Yet he head butted her, even though it would hurt him twice as much as it would her. That enraged Faith; Xander seemed willing to break himself to pieces to get to her.

When her knee shot up, Xander was ready. He used her lack of balance to flip her over his shoulder and send her crashing hard into the beam. Her body bounced and slid down the wet beam, pain shooting through her spine like she hadn't experienced in years. As a grunt of pain escaped her lips, she felt herself loose her balance, she felt her awkwardly placed body tip over the side and suddenly fear overwhelmed her. She shrieked and twisted around frantically until she got a proper hold of the beam. She stayed frozen for a moment, her body as tense as a rock and yet trembling. Xander could see the faintest trace of water in her eyes, as he stood motionless watching. He had never seen her this afraid and he was taken at the same time by amusement and deep sympathy.

"What's wrong, _Slayer_?" he mocked, "need time to catch your breath already?" It took her a moment to collect herself before she could even glare at him. Vertigo was still overcoming her. To get up, she would be forced to stare down once more into that abyss, into that darkness so complete, where falling snow was engulfed and from where deep down below, the wind sang a sweet requiem. She shut her eyes as tight as she could, trying to steady her erratic breath. She could hear Xander's now somewhat encouraging voice. "C'mon soldier. I haven't given you permission to quit yet."

She stood trembling, unsure of anything but her fear. She barely cared anymore, she just wanted out. She didn't care about Xander, waiting in front of her. She didn't care about her pride or her feelings for him. She just wanted off this tower. Xander brought her back with his taunting.

"Faith, I'm a generous guy, but I've got just so much pity to spare. Are you gonna get your weak little ass over here and fight? You know, maybe I'm being to hard on you, maybe you really don't have what it takes. I mean you're a Slayer, maybe that's all you got. Maybe you're just tough when you're beating on people half your strength."

"You know what you're problem is, Boytoy?" she roared as she stepped up to him, resuming her fighting stance and offering him the back of her wrist. "You're always talking and bitching, just like B. Whine. Whine. Whine. By the way, say hello to her for me when we're done, here."

"Good Faith," he said with a smile, the back of his wrist meeting hers, "I was starting to think you really were as pathetic as you looked."

He thought he was dead. DeMontagne opened his eyes painfully, and quickly realized he was hanging upside down. He stared up at the spike protruding from his leg, hooking him like a piece of meat; it was a painful but welcomed savior.  The pain however was distant, muted by the overwhelming pangs all over his chest. He slipped off the bulletproof vest with a grunt and he examined it carefully, hundreds of little shotgun pellets had distorted its shape into something almost unrecognizable. Small wounds ran all along side his arms, but from the flow of blood he judged none of the pellets seemed to have hit any of his arteries. 

He let the vest fall down and swung himself up. Pulling his leg off the spike was easier than he thought it would be. The wound was much larger than the circumference of the metal rod, his landing having torn a large gap into his leg. He probably would be limping for the rest of his life, if he managed to keep the leg at all.

Glancing upward at a few floors above, he could see two shadows facing each other on a beam. Xander and Faith were fighting fiercely, exchanging blows and blocks as if everything was one fluid motion, as if they were dancing. DeMontagne could see Faith hesitating, her body so tense her usual speed and power were considerably reduced. Bringing her up here had been brilliant.

In that moment, as he was watching them unable to say who had the upper hand, he realized just how completely outclassed he really was. He thanked his stars for allowing him to survive this deadly game so far, and quietly limped his way toward the stairs.

Block. Punch. Block. Punch. Block. Punch.

This, was going nowhere fast. 

Their fight for control of the centerline continued without either of them able to gain any distinct advantage over the other. They fought and fought, manipulating each other's attack, bridging, and attempting kicks whenever possible. Every once in a while, a blow would reach its target, but Faith could take it, and Xander seemed to refuse that anything short of sudden death would take him down.  Faith was getting more frustrated by the minute. She was the slayer, this should be over by now, he shouldn't be able to keep up like that.

She attempted a kick and he dropped and made a swipe for her back leg. She aptly jumped over it and caught him with a punch on her way down. He staggered backward and she finally had the opening she'd been waiting for. She launched forward and threw punches after punches. Xander blocked some of them but many came through. His head kept snapping backward, and blood flew out of his mouth as a powerful wheel kick landed.

Desperation felt like a metal column against his back.  Faith was smiling at him as she strutted slowly toward him. She was feline as ever and he suddenly felt like a wounded bird. His head throbbed and he barely managed to stay conscious.

"Nice try Boytoy, but I guess your Eye of the Tiger moment is all used up."

"I'm just going easy on you," breathed Xander, taking a second to spit out some blood. "You can't tell, but I'm in total control of this situation." He shot her a bloody smile, his teeth darkened. She threw a punch and he barely dodged it, her fist putting a large dent into the beam where his head had been a moment earlier. 

Xander plunged forward grabbing onto a chain that hanged there and swung himself over to another beam. He quickly took a knee and caught his breath while Faith nervously navigated her way to him. As she stepped onto a wooden bridge that separated them, the structure suddenly shook. A deep metallic whine coming from below. Abruptly, all the comfort she felt from the somewhat more roomy bridge vanished, and she was again trying to catch her breath. Xander made his way to his end of the bridge.

"What's wrong, Faith? Don't like what you're hearing? I guess Marcus kind of topple a few cards on this little castle of ours," said Xander before turning his attention toward the sky. "What's wrong you're not afraid of dying are you? Think; this is the greatest moment of your life!" Xander laughed deeply and shook the bridge by jumping on it. Faith looked like she was about to have a heart attack. For himself, he had a wicked grin, and was seemingly enjoying watching Faith squirm. "C'mon talk to me Faith, this is fun. Try and think positive. We'll probably have killed each other way before this starts collapsing."

"You're not funny, Xander. Even in High school, you weren't funny. You were just lame."

"Well there goes my crown has the comeback king"

"Fuck you."

"Oh c'mon, things were going so well, we were communicating, opening a dialogue. Why do you always have to ruin it by being you?"

"Why don't you try communicating with my fist?" She pounced forward and he did the same. He blocked the first two punches and he noticed between the anger and the fear that Faith's emotion had moved her to overextend her attacks. He grabbed the third punch with excitement bursting through his mind. His other hand grabbed onto her elbow and he twisted hard before her disbelieving eyes. Faith yelled out in pain. The crack she felt in her wrist was followed by a popping sound in her elbow; the pain was terrible as Xander held her there caught in an arm bar. 

"How does it feel Faith, huh? To have your arm broken in two places at once? The wheel turns doesn't it?"  

She grunted in response, mustering all her strength to kick him off as she fell back to the ground. The wooden planks creaked under her, as if laughing along with Xander. She tried to crawl up to her feet and Xander took the opportunity to kick her in the ribs. She rolled onto her back and tried once more with similar result. She couldn't believe it, she was actually loosing. 

"Alright, this is getting boring," finally said Xander. "Get up."

She stood up careful, her back almost to the edge of the bridge. She cradled her broken arm and glared at Xander. He looked amused.

"You think this is over? You think you've won? Think again," she yelled before dashing forward. Xander pulled away from her first kick, ducked under the one that followed and elbowed her to the chest, catching a vicious hook to the face in the process. To his surprise Faith then punched him with her wounded arm, she too was playing for keeps now, and that suited him just fine. However, the blow though not as forceful, was well aimed at his solar plexus, and he now found himself out of breath. Several more blows came his way and he threw a few of his own, but things started to look terribly bad again when he realized his back was now only a meter away from the brink. His knees buckled, and Faith backed of for a second.

"Are you ready for the real pain?" she threw at him. Xander laughed as he struggled back to his feet, his eyes colder and darker than usual. He threw her a maniacal smile her way, blood slipping from his mouth, pouring from his forehead and encircling his eyes.

"I am pain, Faith, I'm your death! May your bones shatter."

As Faith pushed forward, suddenly something eerie happened. Her moves seemed strangely slower, and Xander felt a strange inner calm he had never experienced before. Somewhere deep in his mind, anger simmered. He didn't know why, but suddenly he understood, suddenly he was ready to kill her. Suddenly he wasn't afraid of anything anymore. His hands shot out with normal speed and easily blocked Faith's sluggish moves. One. Two. Three. Snowflakes seemed to hang in the air; the wind suddenly frozen. He sidestepped and watched as she slowly passed him; he sidestepped back with a vengeance, body checking her.  Everything fell back into place as Faith plunged over the side.

Dawn couldn't believe what she'd just seen. Xander's moves had just become a literal blur. Suddenly he had moved faster than her eyes could follow, and Faith had been thrown over the side in the process. She gave a sigh of relief when she caught a glimpse of the raven Slayer hanging by her one good arm from a nearby spike. What the hell had happened to Xander since she'd last seen him?

Faith looked down and instantly regretted it. She was on the edge of the building, her feet dangling over nothingness. There was only air between her and cement some thirty floors below. Vertigo was dizzying her up. Xander stood still, his back to the brink, not having moved since he had pulled his matrix on her. He'd won. She was beaten, and neither of them seemed to be able to believe it. Suddenly the entire structure shook and started to bend toward the right. Faith shrieked as hard as he'd ever heard her.

"Xander…" she yelled her eyes watering up, fear burning through her veins as her grip started to slip. "This ain't fair… what? Can't do it yourself, so you're gonna let the building take care of me? That's just like you, some pathetic looser who can't finish anything he starts… c'mon face me!" 

"You've lost, Faith," he said without turning around. "All that's left for me to do is watch you die."

"You cunt! You worthless piece of alcoholic trash! How do you think Dawn's gonna think of you when you tell her, huh? What do you think B. would say?" she yelled panicked, trying hopelessly to manipulate her way out of the situation. There was time in her life where she hadn't feared death, sometimes where she'd even been suicidal, but falling thirty floors toward her apparent death again wasn't the way she would ever pick to go. "How the mighty white knight as fallen. What are you gonna tell her you, coward?"  

"I'll lie," he answered before heading off away from Faith's line of sight. Her panic grew. He was really going to leave her there; she was really going to die. The sight of him leaving alone was enough to make her want to just let go. Instead tears started to flow for the first time in years and her voice grew increasingly weaker.

"Help me dammit… please!" she squealed, Faith was suddenly gone, all that was left was that scared little girl she had forgotten completely somewhere between her mother and her watcher dying. Suddenly there were no more lies, no more illusions. The word 'please' felt weird on her tongue, like a razor.  "Xander, it wasn't me, please. It was DeMontagne, it was all DeMontagne, please… please! I love you! Didn't you hear me… I love you!" She started sobbing, and closed her eyes for a second. He wasn't coming back for her; she'd lost him for good this time. She was angry at how pathetic she was to be crying like that, how fucked up she had been to let her life lead up to that moment. She had had so many chances, and she had screwed it all up. There was only one thing to do now. 

She was still trying to muster the strength to let go, when something grabbed her wrist. Faith opened her eyes and watched in relief as Xander pulled her up and threw her hard against the bridge. She continued sobbing there for a moment. Her emotions were pouring out of her, and for the life of her, she couldn't regain control. 

"I'm pathetic, huh? A real screwed up bitch, just like my mother."

Xander stayed silent staring off into the distance, into the night lit sky of New York City.

"You got what you wanted, huh? Kicked a slayer's ass. Bravo Xander, you got me impressed."

Still Xander stayed silent. Faith felt even more nervous now, not knowing how to interpret what was going on. She was running out of ways to start a conversation.

"I take it you're not gonna off me, right? What now?" she asked as she sniffled,  "Are you gonna try to sermon me on good and evil, now? Aren't you gonna ask me to switch sides again? Tell me how everything's alright, how there's light at the other end of the tunnel?" Her voice became incrementally sarcastic, as she regained her usual composure.

"No Faith," he answered simply turning around and throwing her knife at her feet, the same knife he'd stolen from her the night he left her in Portmamock, the same knife she had thrown into his door the night she'd broken his arm, the same knife the mayor had given her, the same Buffy had stabbed her with. "That belongs to you. Take it and get out of my sight." He turned back around not showing any care that he'd just armed her with a deadly weapon. 

Faith gasped. So hurt was she by his statement, so filled with rage that she seized the knife swung her shoulder back to throw it at him. She stopped herself at the last second. Instead, a saddened expression filled her face. He didn't care; he didn't care one bit. He didn't move one muscle, offering himself as a perfect target. She dropped the knife into the darkness, and left, holding her composure only a few seconds before bursting again into tears.

Xander continued staring out into the snowy night, biting his tongue hard not to turn around and run after her. All his life he had only wanted to protect those he cared about, all his life he had failed. Tonight, this Pyrrhic victory held the sad realization that for once in his life, he had done the right thing. He trembled; he yearned for her kiss, his mouth slowly filling with blood.

"I feel sick, I don't think I'm going to sleep well tonight," said Marcus as he stared out into the distance of the New York sky. "I took lives man, I killed people." Xander poured whisky into the glass in front of his friend.

"You killed bad guys, Marcus. You saved my life. Concentrate on that."

"Let me have that, will you?" demanded Garrett as he took the bottle away and swallowed a large swig; it was in turn snagged by Sanaz who followed suit. The four friends leaned over the balcony's railing, dressed in winter gear and wearing long faces as the last of the snow came floating down.

"Revenge doesn't taste quite as sweet as I thought it would," added Sanaz. 

"It's an acquired taste," replied Xander, before taking the bottle back. 

"Is this how you always feel?" asked Marcus.

"Most of the time, but don't worry for you, it'll pass. It's only when you killed so many people that when you have nightmares, you can't even remember who the hell they are or why you did them in, that's when you start to have a problem. That's when that nausea you're all feeling, that's when it start following you around everywhere. So then, you grow cold, because you don't have a choice, because there's no other escape except maybe madness. It becomes so much easier to just give up on yourself, to label yourself as evil, just like Faith does. It's your only way to make sense of this fucked up world we live in."

"What about you?" asked Sanaz, "You're not evil, you're still a hero."

"Well, I guess I'm just a sucker for punishment."

"How hopelessly romantic," chimed in Garrett with sarcasm.

"Sucker for punishment?" Dawn came out onto the balcony, Xander instantly hiding the bottle behind his back as he turned to meet her. "Sound like somebody else we know." 

"Whoa, what are you trying to imply?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow, looking as offended as she'd seen him in years.

"I'm saying I'm thinking of buying you massive amount of hair gel. By the way, you can take the bottle out of wherever you hid it," she said, producing a glass of her own. "I'm here to join."

They all talked for a while, mostly about unrelated things, until they left one by one. Tonight wasn't a night for socializing. Only Dawn and Xander were left standing there, pouring each other another drink.

"It's really good to have you back, Dawn," said Xander after they had exchanged a few laughter.

"Yeah, I missed you too, Xan."

"I'm sorry I had to leave. I just couldn't stay, you know that, everything there reminded me of your sister."

"Yeah, I know. Including me," she said the last part with a little sadness, but forced herself to perk up instantly. "It's no biggie. I really appreciated you staying as long as you did. I know it wasn't easy for you." 

"Dawn," he said lifting her chin so she would meet his gaze, "I should have tried harder. You're here now though, and I promise, I'm not going anywhere anymore."

Suddenly, Dawn felt an old urge surge back through her. Being so close to Xander for the first time in years felt weird, it sent her heart racing for old feelings she thought she had buried long ago. Alcohol on her mind, she suddenly felt the strong impulse to kiss him. Her hand reached up and cupped his. She stared into his eyes; she was close enough to feel his warm breath. For a moment, only a moment, she thought she saw something; she thought for a second he might actually kiss her back if she only leaned forward, if only her lips reached out for his.

Leaning into his touch felt right, it felt like a warm blanket, like coming home. Her heart thumped and thumped. His skin under her fingers; the musk of his scent. She hungered for his taste, she desired his lips. In her mind, they were already sharing an embrace and her whole body tingled. Her breath started to accelerated as she felt herself wavering, Faith the farthest thing from her mind. She was about to lean in and kiss him when she noticed the confusion in Xander's eyes. He was tensing up as he suddenly became uncomfortable with their proximity. She covered instantly by giving him a huge hug, which after a few seconds, he reciprocated entirely. When she pulled away, she had to look down for a few seconds, Xander staring into his own drink. They finally broke the awkward silence with nervous laughter.

"You know, "said Dawn finally, feeling embarrassed for entirely different reasons. "I heard what you said to Faith up there."

"I know."

"You were… listen I know she was in the bad, but seeing her cry like that… it's Faith, Xander, she's not supposed to cry…you were—you were really harsh."

"I had to be, Dawn."

"Why?"

"Because the cycle had to be broken. Because pushing her away, as sick as it sounds, might be the only way to ever get her back. Faith is the only one who can make herself change and she was never gonna try with me holding her hand. You only change when you're all alone, when you've been stripped of everything. Hitting bottom is the only thing that can affect someone that profoundly. Me walking away made her change to what she is today; doing it again might pull a double negative. Sometime, Dawn, you just have to hurt the ones you love." Xander turned away to sip on his drink as Dawn took a moment to consider what he had just said. After a moment, she punched him as hard as she could on the arm. Xander smiled and gave her a little mock punch of his own.

"One thing I need to know-- up there," said Dawn finally, "you sort of went all… matrixy? What's up with that?"

"I don't know, I noticed it though. It never happened before and to be honest, it kind of freaks me out."

"Maybe it was that medallion thingy?"

"There's just one problem with that: I wasn't wearing Skoll," he replied, his hand stroking the golden emblem of the wolf. 

"Maybe you're like, becoming the One or something. You haven't been traveling to alternate dimension killing version of yourself, have you?"

"Not that I know of—I broke a mirror the other day?"

They both smiled to each other and decided to switch the conversation to lighter and more trivial things, catching up on school and other non-demon related life subjects. After a moment, they ran out of things to say and they simply stood for a while enjoying the cold air and the warm taste of the alcohol.

"At least, DeMontagne paid for what he did," said Dawn.

"Well you know what they say about vengeance," said Xander mysteriously, "best served cold."

"Well, I guess you'll be glad to hear I managed to hire us a skeleton crew for the moment, just to insure our personal protection as our enterprise recovers from its recent financial losses. Of course I don't need to tell you, Faith, that I have to pay these idiots at least three time as much as they're worth. I think the first thing I'll do, once we can again afford some quality people, is to have them killed and have their savings extracted from their accounts. Hopefully they won't have drunk all of it by then." 

Faith barely listened to Mason, her thoughts somewhere even less pleasant. She was sprawled comfortably on her chair, tapping her finger angrily against her thigh. Her other arm was in a cast, the sling digging uncomfortably into her neck. 

"Whatever."

"Well alright, moving on then. I owe you an apology, Faith. You were right, I was wrong. We should have killed DeMontagne straight away and given his head as a present to Xander. Given time that might still be possible of course."

"What do you mean?" asked Faith suddenly interested.

"His body was never found at the scene, and somebody matching his description checked himself into the emergency ward at Bellevue hospital yesterday night, with a massive leg wound and shotgun pellets imbedded into his arms. A fairly unique scenario, wouldn't you say? Do you think we should inform Mr.Harris, then?"

"No, it doesn't matter now, trust me."

"Very well, if you say so."

"So what's the next big plan," asked Faith, "thievery, smuggling, murder, or just your regular end of the world type plan. What do you need me for? It's what I'm good at anyways."

"Actually, I'm afraid we'll be toning down on all of our illegal activities for the next few months. I'm afraid Mr. Harris as left us in no shape to pursue our present goal. We'll just have to keep a low profile and bide our time for a little while. However, since you asked me what I needed you for, I do have one task in mind."

"What?" asked Faith, as Mason got up and walked around to seat on his desk directly in front of the Slayer. He shoved his hands into his pocket and threw her a winning smile.

"Have dinner with me tonight."

"Are you for real?" she asked annoyed.

"Yes, of course, why wouldn't I be, I mean, you are unattached, aren't you?"

"I'm a big girl, I've always made my own fucking decisions."

"Yes, well I meant, you and Mr. Harris won't be seeing each other for a while, at least. I thought maybe I could cheer you up."

"If I need cheering up from you, I'll nail one of your feet to the floor and have you run around in circle for my amusement. Are we five by five on this?"

"Well, I'm not quite clear on the metaphor, but I'm still hopeful you'll have dinner with me tonight. Look, Faith, if Xander can't see just what an amazingly beautiful and irresistible woman you are, I…"

"Oh, c'mon, don't try charming your way into my panties. I got some bad news for you, Mason, I don't get vulnerable."

"Faith, I wasn't trying to charm you. I meant what I said; you are an incredibly attractive woman. I've wanted you since that very first moment I saw you in Russia. Can you really blame me for feeling that way, when I'm haunted by your beauty. When I yearn so much to spend only an evening with you, to talk and dine with you, while he rejects you utterly because he can't appreciate just how lucky he is to have you. God, Faith, why can't you believe me, you are beautiful."

"You really think so…" she asked still hesitating, her resistance and disbelief waning as she stared into Mason's blue eyes. Mason was a hard man to say no to.

 The phone rang before he could answer. When he picked it up he instantly pressed his hand over the receiver. 

"I'll pick you up at eight. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to take this privately." 

Once Faith made herself scarce, Mason turned back to the telephone.

"I'm sorry ,sir, we can talk now."

"You lied to me, Mason, did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

"Whatever are you talking about, sir?" The voice on the other end burst into a hoarse laughter.

"I do have to hand it to you Mason, you have courage to lie to me twice. Not many would. I am however talking about how you really are the one who organized the hit on Xander."

"Why would I do that, sir? DeMontagne acted on his own, if he was here he would tell you, himself."

"No, I know that is what you told him to say, under pretenses of checking Faith's loyalty. I bet the poor fool still doesn't know he was being set up for the slaughter. I have to admit it though, it was a rather well played gambit, but a very expensive one—for me of course."

"I disagree, sir. I was afraid Faith's relationship with Xander was securing his moral compass. And as you can see, this latest development had a rather desirable effect. Xander's slipping again toward, shall I say 'the darkside', just a little more and he'll be working for us in no time. Life, Love, and War, it's all about chess, about moving pieces on a board. It's an art that I'm sure you're familiar with. I'm sure you agree with my reasoning, sir."

"What I would agree to, Mason, is that you are a skilled liar, but are still expendable. Threaten my affairs again, and I will have you castrated, like that you won't be so prone to have your judgment impaired by your desire for a woman."

"Well, sir, with all do respect, I think you would be one to respect and understand the appeal of lust, not to mention a good gamble." The comment earned him another hoarse laughter. 

"Enjoy the woman, Mason, but remember, don't try gambling with me again. The house, after all, wins every time."

DeMontagne limped his way out of Bellevue on a Sunday afternoon. He leaned hard on the crutches and smiled as he made his way though the street, he smiled because he could look down at any time and see his leg attached to the rest of his body. In a month or two he'd be able to walk on it again. Of course, his mercenary days were over, but everyone had to retire one day. He was glad he had lived long enough to. 

He studied the street for a long time, hiding away on the corner. He checked for ambushes or for any sign somebody might be watching his car. Everything seemed clear and he proceeded. The inspection of his car was as throughout as possible, both before and after he'd gotten in. He took a final breath before he nervously turned on the ignition. The soft purr of his engine was a welcomed sound from the expected explosion. 

Dreams of sunny beaches and of California women filled his mind as he began driving off, never to return to this filthy city he had come to hate. The place where he'd been broken. He rode out and stopped at the light where an old bum scrubbed the windshield of every car with a dirty rag, hoping for the occasional kind soul who'd toss a few coins at him instead of a few insults. DeMontagne waved him off, but the beggar persisted. 

DeMontagne feeling oddly generous for once in his life, rolled down his window once the bum was done and handed him a ten dollar bill.

"Thank you, sir," said the beggar, "that's very generous of you."

"No problem my friend. You have a nice day," replied DeMontagne. He tried to roll the window back up, but the bum's hand blocked it midway.

"Sir," said the beggar, his voice changing into a too familiar one, "you forgot your change." 

DeMontagne snapped his head to the side in time to see the bum drop the grenade into his lap. His eyes shot wide and his hands fumbled for the black round object which slipped down and rolled under his seat. One second. Two seconds. Three…

"Merde!" he yelled.

The car blew up like a fireball bursting out of hell. The whole street turned around to watch in awe as it flew up and back down, carrying the rapidly blackening remains of the Frenchman. Everyone quickly crowded toward the car, except for one bum who calmly walked away through a nearby alley, discarding his clothes as he went.

Finally, Xander pulled off the fake beard and the wig. He turned around to catch a glimpse of the burning inferno, and smiled. He didn't know why, nor did he want to, but he knew tomorrow would bring no guilt this time.

COMING NOT SO SOON!!!   

BETWEEN SHADOWS SEASON I    TWO PARTS   FINALE

Episode VII      UNFORGIVEN…

Episode VIII    …AND NOTHING ELSE MATTERS


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